90 Day Wonder Text

Day Wonder
Darkness Remembered
By Leon Cooper & Don Tait
90
2003 Leon Cooper. All rights reserved. leoncooper@verizon.net No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded, or otherwise, without permission from the author. ISBN 13: 978-0-9790584-1-7 ISBN 10: 0-9790584-1-4 Published by 90 Day Wonder Publishing Design and layout by Selfpublishing.com Printed in the United States of America
From Leon . . . To Alberta, my late wife, who loved me, helped me, understood me, tolerated me. . .
Jenny kissd me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say Im weary, say Im sad. Say that health and wealth have missd me, Say Im growing old, but add, Jenny kissd me. Leigh Hunt
TABLE OF CONTENTS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 That Old Feeling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Islands Of Valor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 We Thought Theyd Never End . . . . . . . . . . 23 The 90 Day Transformation . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Looking For Company . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 The Old Coin Trick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 Captains Mast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 The Cave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 Bloody Tarawa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 Full Circle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 The Stadimeter Gambit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Music Lover . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 After The Ball . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 Leslie S. Templewood III . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Getting To Know You . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Say Goodbye . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 Leaving The Tyler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 R&R, Who Needs It? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Washington/Alberta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 Get Out Of Town . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 The McKinley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 Volunteer Fleet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 California, Where the Action Is . . . . . . . . . 187 When Johnny Comes Marching Home . . . . 203 Domesticity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 The Patent Attorney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 Anniversary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Dr. Metzler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Catching Up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243
TABLE OF CONTENTS (continued)
0 3 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38
Foray On The Potomac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 The Reckoning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Sea Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Seize The Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 I Lose Alberta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 The Gathering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 The Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 Strange and Mysterious Ways . . . . . . . . . . 307 The End . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319
CHAPTER 1
THAT OLD FEELING
he skies over D.C. had been leaden all day with intermittent showers. It was October and headlights glistened off the street and the wet cars of people heading home. I glanced at my watch; 4:30. I had been out of the Navy for some years but I still saw 1630 hours, not four-thirty oclock. My wife, Alberta, and I eschewed the umbrella. The mist on our faces felt good and we saw only blue skies ahead. Id had a brief telephone conversation with a Captain Perry of the Navy Procurement Ofce about my perpetual motion invention for Navy ships. Capt. Perry said, a little indulgently, I thought, Make a prototype and contact this ofce when its nished. Well arrange for a demonstration. Goodbye, Mr. Cooper. A little curt, but actually that was a tremendous step forward. All I could have possibly wished for. I was sure my prototype would work. Alberta took my hand and pressed her head against my shoulder. That made me feel good, too.
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It spoke volumes. She loved me. She was proud of me. She was with me all the way. We stood at the intersection of 8th and F Streets N.W. waiting for the light to change. At this time tomorrow wed be home in Malibu. Alberta was asking if I wanted to eat at the hotel or go some place special to celebrate. I didnt care. I didnt answer. I was suddenly focused on that black Buick sedan stationary in the left-turn lane. A sailor was driving and there was a Naval ofcer in the back seat. You goddamn son of a bitch! I shouted. I yanked my hand from Albertas and charged the Buick. There was no broken eld running, no dodging trafc. It was straight for that Buick and more particularly for the bastard in the back seat. I barely heard the screech of brakes, bumpers hitting bumpers, horns blaring, Albertas scream. I yanked on the back door handle. It was locked. You mother-fucking bastard, Ill kill you! I tried the shotgun door. Locked. I ran around to the other side of the car where he sat. Our eyes met through the closed window. It was he. I was sure of it. You prick, Ill kill you! I punched the glass with my fist and felt no pain. The Admiral leaned forward and gave a command to the driver, punching him hard on the shoulder. The car lurched forward. My efforts to hold it yanked me to the asphalt. 2
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Alberta was there to help me up and guide me to the curb. Some pedestrians were staring at us, but I felt neither embarrassment nor pain. Just a seething rage. It was him! Boda! Are you sure? Yes Im sure. It looked just like him! I shouted at her. The mother! After twelve years of marriage Alberta knew when to be quiet, what subjects we could discuss rationally, what subjects pressed a button. Boda was a button. She gently steered me toward the hotel. The neck of the scotch bottle chattered against the rim of the glass Id grabbed from the bathroom. I tossed a heavy slug down and repeated the process, then hurried to the bathroom and threw up. Alberta was watching me uncertainly when I emerged, wiping my face. Ill clean that up in a minute. Dont worry about it. Why dont you stretch out? Can you eat something? I couldnt. I stood at the window and stared at the lights of the Capitol and the trafc below. Its good the doors were locked. I really would have killed him. Alberta wanted to help but she knew I was irrational on the subject. Lee, how could you really see anything through those streaked windows?
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I didnt answer. Maybe I was seeing things that werent there. That was a sobering thought. Our eyes held. Why dont I call Dr. Metzler? she said. Because this has nothing to do with how I feel about my father, I shouted. I liked my father. I loved my father. Its that prick Boda that I hate. Why is that so hard for people to understand? It was after eleven; Alberta was in bed. I was still wearing the torn clothes from this afternoon. The sandwich and soup shed ordered up for me sat on the cart untouched. Come to bed, Lee. I shook my head. I know Ill have that dream tonight for sure. Honey, why dont you go back there like you talked about? You can go alone or Ill go with you. Metzler said it might help. I knew Alberta had gathered brochures with dates and prices for cruises to many of the Pacic islands. Islands of Valor the tour company called them. There was Guadalcanal, Tulagi, Savo Island and others in the Solomons. The Gilberts and the Marshalls, too. Ill see. I started unbuttoning my shirt with my left hand.
CHAPTER 2
ISLANDS OF VALOR
here were 30-something in our Islands of Valor tour group. It included a former P.T. boat commander and a Marine who had actually been there. Some were with wives, some alone. We went ashore by Zodiacs as we sailed from one island to the next among the Solomons, New Guinea and the Gilbert and Marshall Islands. Our Islands of Valor tour group tagged behind the tour director who at Tulagi led us to the far side of the island where we stopped to view WWII detritus everywhere abandoned bulldozers and Jeeps in heaps. Here, virtually an entire machine shop. Over there, a beached landing craft. As the director droned on hed made this trip many times before I could hear some bull-necked CPO barking, Leave it. Kiss it goodbye. Orders are we dont take anything back to the States. I learned later that the Presidents economists had told him wed have another depression if our war supplies were to be brought back. I was particularly interested in 5
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the beached LCVP Higgins Boat resting at an angle partially buried in the sand, its stern still in the water. I had bedded and boarded with the boats for three years. Why was it run aground? How many of the 30 Marines got off? How many didnt? Ragged holes inside the boat told part of the story. Machine gun re? I felt Albertas hand on my arm. The tour group had moved on. How you doing, Honey? she asked, brightly. Okay. That was not exactly accurate. Though I had not been on these particular islands I was mentally reconstructing the action that had taken place here. The softening-up barrage, the landing, the often doubtful holding, the mopping up, the clean up including body removal, establishing a base. The letters home. Over it all, the ghastly image of hat prick Boda and hearing his voice: Are you questioning me, Cooper? The veins standing out in his neck. Are you awake, Cooper? I knew Alberta was extending herself to keep my spirits up, being unnaturally pleasant, pointing out items of interest, asking me questions, anything to distract me from any troubled, brooding thoughts. But the rage was starting to simmer again beneath the surface and I wasnt always able to keep it suppressed. Midway into the three-week cruise Alberta and
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I found ourselves seated with a couple who had emigrated from Budapest during the Hungarian Uprising of 1956. Nothing of any signicance in the way of conversation took place during the dinner when, to my surprise, the man asked Alberta, Are you and your husband Jewish? No, Alberta replied, Why do you ask? The Hungarian mumbled something and returned his attention to his food. This seemed like such an off-the-wall subject to bring up, I pressed the point. Why do you ask? Again, a mumbled response from the Hungarian. Honey, Alberta interjected, He was just making conversation. At this point the bullet-headed Hungarian said, I thought youd like to know about our recent trip to Dauchau. For Crissakes, I shouted, What the hells the matter with you? Bullet-Heads porcine wife tried to calm matters, p u t t i n g her hand on her husbands arm. Alberta grabbed my arm, too, attempting to pull me up from my chair in order to leave the dinner table. I said to her, Just a minute, dear, and turning to Bullet-Head, I asked, Whats your point? What are you trying to tell us? I had jumped to the conclusion that he was going to defend or minimize the Nazis atrocities 7
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in the concentration camps or, worse yet, try to justify them. And I still think it was one of these, but not nding a supportive listener, he let it drop. However, I was not ready to let it drop. Im sure, because of my condition, I was just spoiling for a ght. If Boda wasnt handy, this guy was. Are you going to say there werent six million Jews killed only two million, because you saw the record at Dauchau? His porcine wife clutched her husbands arm tighter so did Albertas mine. Lets go, pleaded Alberta. Turning to the Hungarian, I said, I want you to know that about 18 million U.S. servicemen were in a war to make it possible for a piece of shit like you to come to this country, free of the tyranny you experienced in Hungary. I dont know why you brought up this subject, or whyinfuck you are on this cruise to begin with. I wavered for a moment should I punch his ugly face? Alberta pushed me away from the dinner table. Bullet-Head took great pains to avoid me during the remaining days of the cruise. A prudent decision. Bloody Tarawa was still several stops away. But this morning found us at Bougainville to view the remains of Japanese war material. We followed our tour leader and listened to his authoritative spiel. He must have been three when this happened
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if indeed he had even been born. We followed him to an abandoned airstrip... here among bomb craters was the wreckage of perhaps eight or so Zero, Kate and Val planes, all active players in the Pearl Harbor disaster. In a clearing a hundred yards away there stood a Betty, miraculously almost unscathed. This medium bomber was the type in which Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto made his last ight from Rabaul to Guadalcanal on a morale-building trip to buoy up the troops that were in a last-ditch stand against the Marines. The Admirals plane was gunned down by a flight of P-38s, alerted by a code breaker, ironically located in Pearl Harbor, giving details regarding Chrysanthemums ight schedule. I climbed aboard so Alberta and others in the group could take my picture seated in the cockpit. Upon alighting I heard a small plane landing at an airstrip nearby. Just as we all began to leave the area, three young Japanese men came noisily upon the scene, showing little respect for their countrymen who had fought and died here. They were laughing boisterously while one of them climbed into the cockpit I had just left. I stared at the three, feeling anger and hatred welling up inside of me, just as I had been conditioned years ago. I learned from combat veterans who had served in Europe that they were not so conditioned to hate the Krauts or Dagos as we in the Pacic were to hate the Japs.
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To us in the Pacic it was a visceral thing. With the brainwashing we had had and the tenacious ghting of the Japanese, they had become not only a different race, but a different species not human at all which is why I and everyone I served with viewed with indifference the killing of prisoners which happened on all of the islands we took from the enemy. We knew, too, that the enemy had a like attitude toward Americans who surrendered. In fact, the Japanese looked upon surrendered Americans as beneath contempt. In their samurai warrior credo, beheading was the honorable method of executing these cowardly Americans. I had warned Alberta right after we were married that she should expect to be awakened at least now and then by this damned sound I would be making. I couldnt speak in this dream because I was afraid I would be swallowing sea water. I was sitting on top of a Sherman tank 15 or 20 feet below the water, on top of a coral reef... so all I could do was moan in this fairyland of bright coral colors, blues, greens, yellows. There was this kid sitting on the tank next to me, a young Marine. Later in the dream Im with this same young Marine, only now Im looking at him as he lies among the wounded and dying that Im bringing back from Tarawa, in the hold of my landing craft. He keeps moaning for water... is that him or me moaning? 10
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It hurts, he says over and over, so I give him a shot of morphine, taking care to put a tag on his bloody uniform noting the date and time of the shot. Water, he takes up the refrain again. More pleading, so I hold his head up and pour a little water in his mouth from my canteen. He stops talking. One of the other wounded Marines calls out, so I crawl over to him on the deckboards of the boat and try to comfort him. I crawl back to the rst Marine... I suddenly become aware that Im sobbing and moaning... Ive killed him, is all I can think, by giving him water. Then Id feel my wife gently tugging me, awakening me, telling me, Its going to be alright, Honey. In our Islands of Valor tour wed sail at night and in the morning nd ourselves either berthed or anchored off some island or atoll. A few of their names were only vaguely familiar. This morning, a bright sunlit morning, I was up early on deck staring off at Tarawa. It was beautiful. Relentless nature had healed the scars. It was lush and green. The palms stood upright, but if I looked hard, I could see the remains of a prostrate palm trunk or of a stump. I could visualize Marines huddled behind them waiting for a break in the ring to rush forward to another fallen palm. Anything to hunker down behind, to gather oneself, to talk to the guy pressed against you. 11
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Can you see where its coming from? Hed shake his head. One, probably both, were trembling. Then thered be other Marines running past them, moving ahead ring. Time to get out from behind the stump and move forward. Often it was the unspoken opinions of your comrades that made you get out from behind that stump and charge forward. When it was all over, and if you were still alive, you didnt want to find a couple of guys looking at you and having to avoid their eyes. So you got up and you ran forward to the next enemy position. Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima, Okinawa these amphibious assaults during WWII upon Japaneseheld redoubts stand out in the nations memory. The rest of the some dozen invasions of Japanese strongholds in the vast Pacic theater have by now faded into the annals of battles. But one stands out in my memory, scarcely recalled by any except the participants Tarawa, an equatorial atoll. It was my rst battle experience as a landing craft ofcer, responsible for landing assault troops on enemyheld beachheads. In November, 1943, the nation was shocked to see photos in Life magazine of Bloody Tarawa, as it was famously termed. Pictures of U.S. Marine dead taken before the burial crews did their clean-up work of corpses oating in the water, 12
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of others sprawled on the seawall, of still others huddled near the stump of a coconut palm. And then there was that photo in another issue of a young/old hollow-eyed soldier with the hundredmile look. This was warfare close up almost a tactile experience for the Life magazine reader and for the nation. Never before had the public seen a display of such carnage, such horrors, of dead Americans. But then came other battles and less graphic photos... Tarawa faded with time. But not for me. Why Tarawa? Why was Tarawa selected as the rst in the island-hopping campaign in the Central Pacic? A naval ofcer and president of the Naval War College, Alfred Mahan, published his seminal work in 1890, The Inuence of Sea Power Upon History, in which he argued that command of the seas was the key to victory in all U.S. wars. Mahans thesis evolved into the Orange Plan, a strategy devised by U.S. Navy planners in the early 1900s for defeating the Japanese in the event of war. The Japanese Navys annihilation of the Russian eet in 1905 in the Battle of Tsushima Strait made it seem obvious to the U.S. Navy high command that the Japanese Navy would be a formidable adversary in the struggle for command of the Pacic. An important factor in the battle plans was the seizure of certain Central Pacic 13
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islands en route to the Japanese homeland. It is impossible for me to shake loose from my memory even the most trivial details of the battle for Tarawa... the Navys traditional Battle Breakfast steak and eggs at 0300 hours on November 23... the shrill bosuns whistle over the ships PA system, then the barked command: Now hear this! Away all boats! Away all boats! On my way to my boat station I saw Bill Cochrane, a Marine Lieutenant with whom I had made fast friends during our trip from New Zealand. We gripped each others hands, then said something nonsensical before climbing down the debarkation net into waiting landing craft. Did Cochrane survive? I never found out.
Alberta came up beside me, choosing her words carefully. If she said, quite accurately, Its beautiful, isnt it? she knew there was the chance Id snap back, To you, maybe. So she asked instead if Id had breakfast. I hadnt. I continued to gaze off at Tarawa, an atoll; Betio was the island of which it was a part. Fifty-ve years ago somebody had decided it essential that we take it as we moved toward Japan. Seeing it resting there, calm and verdant in a sun-dappled sea, it was hard 14
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to grasp that. The price for that little piece of real estate was almost 10,000 dead and wounded, mostly dead, during 72 hours of ghting, including 3,500 A m e r i c a ns and 6,000 Japanese and noncombatant Koreans along with some comfort women. There were few, if any, statistics on prisoners. They were prisoners only briey. Terrible atrocities took place here. There was the normal talk and some laughter in our group as the Zodiac headed toward Tarawa. Alberta and I sat silently. I noticed the P.T. boat Captain looking at me. We both managed a wan smile, then glanced away. Some of the passengers were aware that this trip for me was more therapeutic than sightseeing. Helping hands made certain we stepped ashore safely. Then there I was actually standing on it again, bloody Tarawa. I could feel Albertas eyes on me. I glanced her way and nodded reassuringly. She seemed relieved. Soon we were all ashore. There followed some orientation information from our guide, and we were given the option of staying with him or going off on our own. Alberta waited for me to make the choice. We would go on our own. We walked along a jungle path, one worn by hundreds of years of walkers, on our way to the village. Orchids tumbled in abundance over breadfruit and papaya trees in between the coconut palms. I tied a bougainvillaea 15
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ower over Albertas right ear while she smiled at me. Why did you do that, silly? she asked. Because, I said, It means you belong to me. At just that moment I felt a tiny, warm hand in mine. Two Gilbert Island girls had joined us on the trail. They were going to the Seventh Day Adventist Church in the village. Are you going to church? one asked. No, not today, Alberta answered. We walked in silence in the still heavy perfumeladen air. After a bit, Alberta said, I feel like were in the Garden of Eden. One of the girls asked, Do you know any hymns? Alberta said, How about... and then she began in her soft, sweet voice... Amazing grace, how sweet the sound... The girls joined in, word for word, singing all the verses. When we nished, one of the girls asked me, Do you know any? I started off, clumsily, You are my sunshine the mantra for all military personnel in the South Pacic during that war. Again, the girls joined in, word for word. We came to a fork in the trail, the girls were off to church, Alberta and I were taking the trail t o wa r d the sea and the Jap anese defenses. God bless you, the girls said in unison, and 16
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moved off. Tears formed in Albertas eyes as she watched the girls walk away. Tarawa? Hardly the one I remembered. A curve in the trail brought us to a perfect view site. Below was our glistening white ship still on that cobalt sea. A warm breeze made it all perfect. There really must be something different about tropical air, like there is weight to it as it ows over your face. We stopped and took it all in. Alberta looked like she wanted to be kissed and I obliged. I continued to hold her as she asked if I was glad we had come. So far, I said. Another landfall in the Solomons group. I had misgivings about returning to the island of The Cave, where years before I had witnessed at rst hand the cruelty I had only heard about. The zodiac put us ashore at Rendova, the beautiful volcanic island with the beautiful name. En route to Rendova the tour director had warned us about a site some of us would not want to visit. I knew he was talking about The Cave. Alberta looked at me: I told her, leaving out the worst parts. Even so, this was not on her list to see. Alberta and I had wandered away from the main group, then decided to re-join them, hearing their voices in the distance. The group, led by the tour director, was descending from a steep hill that 17
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had been a Japanese stronghold. There was not the usual chatter. Their heads were down. They said nothing in passing and seemed to be very interested in their footing. Then there it was, the entrance to a cave protected by concrete and palm logs. The entrance now had been ringed with a fence. Newly constructed stairs led down to the entrance. I looked back for Alberta. She had fallen behind coming up the trail and seemed to be breathing heavily. I waited for her, my hand out, and led her to a spot a few yards from the entrance. I was standing about here. Theyd heard Japanese voices coming from inside. They brought the Lieutenant over and he told them to empty both drums of gasoline down there. Alberta could hear the tension building in my voice and wanted to stop me, but I was reliving it. I was back there. Some of the other tour group members were now watching me. The Sergeant threw a grenade down the cave after it, then another, and we all backed away. There were two explosions, one right after the other. Then screams, then silence. I looked around at the people staring at me and came back to the present. I started toward the entrance. Maybe you shouldnt, Alberta said.
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Dont you want to come? She shook her head. I started down the steps. Electric lights had been brought into the cave;
still, it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness. Blackened skeletons here and there, more than 100, perhaps 150 still in the cave. Surprisingly, their relatives had not come after the war, to gather up the remains of the incinerated soldiers. There was a pack of skeletons gathered at the far wall of the cave where they had crowded to get as far away as possible from the exploding gasoline. Canteens, rie clips, helmets and, in a corner, a case of blackened bottles. Sake. It was over fast, Im certain. I moved hurriedly toward the exit, pushing past other visitors. Alberta later said I had that hundred-mile look when I came out of the cave. I didnt protest when she suggested we return to the ship. There were more Islands of Valor to see before we circled back to our home port of Honiara in Guadalcanal. I left the ship only a few times. I did spend a lot of time at the bar. Alberta read in the lounge and drank hot tea. The bartender, a nice e n o u g h g u y, s a i d h e d p l ay e d t i g h t e n d f o r Wisconsin. But I didnt give a shit about the big game with Minnesota and I think that became obvious to him early on. He shut up and tidied his bar. When he saw my glass was empty, he said, 19
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Another, Mr. Cooper? The answer was usually yes. Captains on these smaller cruise ships would often appear among the passengers and chat them up. The passengers were attered and it was good P.R. for the line. He paused this morning, resplendent in his whites, when he saw me at the seat Id claimed as mine at the bar. Good morning, Mr. Cooper. I nodded. I didnt want to get drawn into a conversation. Have you been enjoying the trip? Parts. I understand youre Navy. I was. I never looked up from my drink, hoping hed move on. I noticed you didnt go ashore at Choiseul. Its really very beautiful. I looked up at him. Is that mandatory, sir? Suddenly it was not this Captain, but Boda who was in my face. Cooper, you jumped ship Cooper, youre conned to quarters! No, of course not, the Captain smiled, I just thought Good, can I take this with me, sir? 20
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I grabbed my drink, gave the Captain a look and went to my room. The Captain stood dumfounded. He looked at the bartender, who shrugged. I was slumped in a chair holding the empty glass when Alberta entered the cabin. Shed seen me walk through the lounge and knew something was wrong. Now what? That fucking Captain got in my face and started grilling me about not going ashore. Just like Boda? I overlooked the sarcasm, but recognized that she had a point. Most cruise ship Captains, she continued, dont get in the face of paying customers, Lee. There was an edge to her voice. It was the rst time my wife had lost patience with me on this trip. She dug two aspirin from her purse and swallowed them without water. Am I giving you a headache? No. I tried to nd another drop in my scotch glass. It was not there. It was not there the last time I emptied it, nor the time before. Look at you, she said. Its not even eleven oclock and youre drunk. Youre getting worse! She went into the bathroom and closed the door. I looked up at my reection in the plate-glass 21
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mirror on the wall. The esh on my face sagged. My eyes were bloodshot. I looked mean. God, how did I come to this?
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CHAPTER 3
WE THOUGHT THEYD NEVER END
hough my major at the University of Illinois was mechanical engineering, I was far more interested in my minor, music. This particular Saturday morning, however, neither engineering nor music held my attention. My mind was on softball and our all-important game in half an hour with the Slugs. I was at the keyboard in one of the practice rooms playing a Chopin etude and demonstrating to Professor Phelps how much my technique had improved since last Saturday. I had sense enough not to bring my mitt into the practice room, but I was dressed for the game in cords, Keds and a sweatshirt that bore the word DODOS and also had a crude illustration of this extinct, ightless bird. I played while Professor Phelps listened and paced. He held a conductors baton while he paced. I think he had secret aspirations beyond teaching music to uninspired undergraduates. He moved to the piano and irritably tapped the upper right hand corner 23
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of the sheet music with the baton saying, with appropriate intonation, Pianissimo, Mr. Cooper, pianissimo. In my effort to give Phelps and Chopin what they desired in that passage, I hit a clunker and Professor Phelps rapped the piano rmly with the baton. I put my hands in my lap. I believe Chopin is playing second ddle to the Dodo Birds this morning and the...? Slugs. We have to beat them, Professor Phelps, or were eliminated. Phelps closed his eyes momentarily, obviously seeking guidance from a higher source. Ill catch the outcome on the evening news, he said. And your game will also provide a pleasant respite for Mr. Chopin. He can stop spinning in his grave. Phelps closed the cover on the keys ending the session. Ill be able to concentrate better next week, I offered lamely as I got up from the bench. All of musicdom awaits that moment. As I hurriedly stuffed the music back in a carrying case, Phelps added, Meanwhile I will retire to the Hutch. I dont usually imbibe this early in the day, but youve driven me to it, Mr. Cooper. Im only sorry Mr. Chopin cant join me. We both need it. I backed out mumbling apologies and goodbyes. 24
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In the hall I could hear music and singing from the other rooms. I grabbed up my mitt from the oor and broke into a run. It was early November and a little cool for baseball actually softball but the Saturday morning games were vitally important to us all, so we bundled up and played on the university athletic eld or in some park. A few of the sweatshirts had University of Illinois printed on them in large black letters, including some ribald limericks. Most were just gray. Youd also see the team names crudely printed on the front or back of the shirts, and there were even attempts at illustrations of the animals that the teams represented. In this league, for reasons long forgotten, the teams chose to represent lower forms of animal life. The Fighting Slugs, Amoebas, Road Kills, Ratpack, come to mind. We were the Dodo Birds. I think these names showed a certain disdain for logos such as Lions, Tigers, Wolverines and other more worthy but less sophisticated monikers. Though we were cavalier and cute about team names, we were very serious about the competition. I dont think anyone, certainly no one on the Dodo Birds, thought that a little physical activity mixed with the midnight oil was good for our health. In those days, and at that age, we were not very health-conscious. It was just fun, intense fun. Somebody, somewhere, 25
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must have been keeping a win-lose record, but I never saw it. We were just aware of our own record, which was game with the Slugs. It was bottom of the seventh. Only seven innings were allowed so more games could be t into the short days. The score was Slugs 5, Dodo Birds 3. We had two men on and I was at bat with two strikes on me. Id be graduating in a few weeks, the Winter Class of 41, with a B.S. in Mechanical Engineering. I had an important job interview in Washington that next week for a position as Associate Engineer with the government. Not exactly a dream job but it was security and I could always keep my eyes open for something better. These things were all big happenings in my life, but the most important objective at that moment was getting a hit or maybe even a homer, and saving my team from ignominious defeat at the hands of the Slugs. The Slugs pitcher, a lanky f a r m b o y, h a d a w i n d - u p l i k e a f l y w h e e l . The batter was never sure when he was going to release the ball. I was expecting a change-up, but here came a fast ball right down the slot. I swung with everything I had. He wasnt going to get me looking like he had the last two. I must h av e c o n n e c t e d w i t h t h e b a l l j u s t s o u t h o f Louisville. There was not that disappointing sound of a pop-up or a fly. It was entirely 26
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different. There was no vibration in my wrists, it was right on the sweet spot. The ball sailed over their center elders head and he took off after it. Two Dodo Birds came in. There was wild cheering as I rounded third. The ball was relayed in. I slid home, keeping my body away from their catcher, but I denitely felt my foot touch the base before I felt the back of the catchers mitt on my calf. The umpire, a volunteer, shouted, Out! complete with the traditional dramatic gesture. Several Dodo Birds got in his face but he was not swayed. Slugs 5, Dodo Birds 5. A tie game, over. Please clear the field. As we gathered up the stuff, Foster, our catcher, said, You dont have to buy a round today, Coop. I didnt argue. Money was tight. I needed that job. Half an hour later six of the Dodo Birds were squeezed into a wooden booth at a student watering hole called Farwells. We had not gotten around to sex, we were still talking the game and how we was robbed. Yantis, who was from a hamlet in Colorado, told us about a semi-pro game with a visiting team from the next town. But the game was called when a dog ran off with a y to left eld, and that turned out to be the only ball in town. Since someone kept filling my mug from the pitchers of beer, I did the polite thing and drank them. I soon had three pints of draft in me 27
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and I felt loose, good. I said, Ive got a story about a dog and baseball thatll top that. I didnt usually tell jokes, so they gave me the oor. Skelly even said, Shut up, Foster, and let the man talk. Okay, I started, There was this guy with an Australian sheep dog, very smart. Who, the man or the dog? Shut up and let him talk. The dog. Theyd been together constantly for years. This guy was always training the dog. Anyway, they were in this town, Findlay, Ohio, on a hot day. The guy was down on his luck but he was dying for a drink so he took the dog into this bar. It was empty except for the barkeep who was listening to the World Series on the radio. When the barkeep sees the dog he says, Sorry, no dogs. City ordinance. My friend replied, This is not a regular dog. This dog is very smart. He can talk. There was a groan from the others in the booth. Is this a joke? No, its Gods truth, I assured them. I know the guy well. He told me this happened to him... The skeptics quieted down and I continued. The barkeep said he was very sorry, but it was a Health Department rule. Theyd have to leave. Tell you what, said my friend, Ill make you a deal. You can ask this dog any question you want 28
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and if he cant answer it well leave quietly. If he does answer it, you give me a double bourbon on the house. This bartender gures the best way to handle this is to humor my friend, so he says to the dog, Okay, poochy, who was the greatest baseball player of all time? The dog says, Ruff, and my friend says, There you are, Babe Ruth, greatest baseball player of all time. Oh, and bartender, just a touch of ice in that drink, please. The bartender comes around the bar, grabs my friend and his dog by the back of their necks and throws them both outside into the alley. My friend sits up, dusts himself off like Oliver Hardy and looks over at his dog disgustedly. Well, who was it? asked the dog, Joe DiMaggio? Somebody threw the dregs of his beer on me but there was laughter all around. It had been a great day. Id hit that inside-the-park homer. My grades were good. My prospects for the job were good. Life was good. I was happy.
Anyone who was ten years old or more at the time, and is still alive, probably remembers where they were when they rst heard Pearl Harbor had 29
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been attacked. I was in my senior year at Illinois and had just been interviewed in Washington for that engineering job with the government. It looked pretty certain Id get the job. After the interview, the bureau chief, Peterson, showed me around. He was already talking as though it was a done deal. He introduced me to Stucke, a tall, lean guy with high cheekbones and a prominent nose. Stucke didnt seem particularly happy to see me coming aboard. This will be your desk, Mr. Cooper, and youll share Alberta here with Stucke. Peterson tapped the desk of a pretty girl who was winding paper into an Underwood standard. Thats just for secretarial services, of course, the girl added without looking up. We all laughed. Peterson ushed. Excuse me, Mr. Cooper. This is Alberta. She smiled and our eyes met and for some reason I gave an extra squeeze as our hands parted. God, why did I do that? That wasnt like me. I hoped she didnt read anything into it. Peterson patted my back reassuringly and said Id be hearing from them. He headed back to his ofce. Nice to have met you, Alberta. She glanced up and said, Same here, Mr. Cooper. Did her eyes linger a little longer than propriety would advise? Was her smile warmer 30
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than one might expect under the circumstances? These thoughts were on my mind in the elevator.
I had taken the train back to Chicago and anoth-
er to Champaign, all the while in a state of high euphoria as I walked from the train station to my apartment building on Green Street. I remember an Italian lady leaving Florios grocery store. She was pushing a pram loaded with groceries and an outsized kid. He was slavering over a sucker. The kid was too big to be in there. Hell, it wasnt my problem, I had a job, nay a position Associate Engineer I hadnt even moved the tassel on my mortar board and already Id found security plus. The plus was Id be seeing that girl every day. God was in His heaven and all was right with the world. Everything looked pretty normal on the streets. Cars were rolling. Pedestrians were walking. Two boys on bicycles zipped past me going too fast. As I entered my apartment building there was a student on the wall phone with another guy waiting. The door to the apartment I shared with two other undergrads, Yantis and Skelly, was open and there were other people from the building crowded around my cathedral-shaped table-top radio. It was a Philco. 31
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I think I got it, I said. Yantis put his hand up to shush me. I moved closer and asked softly what was
happening. Yantis said the Japs had attacked Pearl Harbor. It was a moment before I responded. I was having trouble grasping the signicance of the situation. What do you mean, attacked it? They bombed the shit out of it. Where have you been? asked Skelly. Someone said, Turn it off. All the stations are saying the same thing. They dont know any more. Or they dont want us to know. Roosevelt is supposed to address Congress tomorrow. Shit, hes not going to tell us what the damage was. Thats the worst thing he could do. The Philco was turned off and someone in the room asked, What the hell were the Japs thinking? Have you seen Japan on the map? Its about that big. He held his thumb and forenger an inch apart. The tall blonde guy slumped in the chair smiled indulgently. This was Langford. Did they tell us what to do? I asked. Jerkoff here is joining the Marines, said Yantis. Skelly, rather apologetically, explained that his dad had been a Marine. Hed expect it. 32
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Semper Fi. Semper dead, said Langford. Langford was a history grad student. It seemed
like he should have been out of school long ago. Maybe he was going for a doctorate or something, I dont know. But hed been around for years. Do you think theyll come here? Yantis asked Langford. No. He said this with authority. Theyre upset because we cut off their oil and without oil they cant control all the territory theyve taken in the Pacic and Asia. Theyre hoping well sue for peace and stay out of their business. Fine with me, one of the visitors said. Let the yellow perils work it out amongst themselves. We were a typical bunch of college students getting intellectual and solving the worlds problems. But we forgot about global strategy when Langford said the United States would be at war in a couple of days with Japan and Germany. We dont have an army to speak of. We just gave fty destroyers to England and who knows what the damage was at Pearl. Were really in no position to get drawn into a war, but we will be. Though Langford didnt live with us, he had claimed the chair near the Philco. We always turned to Langford if we needed to know something. Trouble was if you asked him what time it was, hed give 33
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you a dissertation on Babylonian water clocks. Langford didnt talk about girls, like the rest of us, about copping a feel or getting laid, or dry humps. But he was the guru around there. He was the pontiff. He might have been gay for all I know. There wasnt much talk about gays at the time. Not like today. Im not sure we used the word gay. Well, what are we going to do about it? someone asked the whole room indignantly. Whos we? Langford asked sardonically. I dont know, the fucking Army, the Navy. Thats what theyre for, isnt it? Well kick their ass so hard they wont know which end of their kimonos to drink tea out of. Bullshit. Japans tough. They kicked Chinas ass. Langford said We were right here in this room. Silence. Langford put our troubled thoughts into words when he pointed a long nger at Yantis and then me and then Skelly. Uncle Sam wants you ... and you ... and you. A couple of guys from upstairs left and went back to their own apartment. After that talk got around to the merits of the different branches of service. It was pretty much agreed that an infantry grunt was the worst. Shit, man, did you ever see pictures of those 34
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guys in the trenches in World War I, sloshing around in a foot of freezing water, stepping over some clown thats been dead for a week? Where you supposed to sleep? Where do you take a crap? Langford said, When a German tank opens up with an 88, the decision will be made for you. There was laughter nervous laughter at the gallows humor. Langford also said there wouldnt be trench warfare this time. The Germans were using a blitzkrieg tactic that was proving very effective. Yantis offered that the Merchant Marine was the same as being in the service, and the pay was great. Langford agreed that Merchant Marine was good especially if you liked hot oil baths. Most votes were for the Navy or the Air Force. At least youd have a place to sleep and three squares a day. But dont drop the soap. We talked about sharks and even about which uniforms looked best. When the conversation waned, Skelly asked Langford what he was going to do. Rising from his chair, Langford said, Somehow I think theyll nd a desk for me in Washington. Its a rotten job, but someones got to do it. There was no response. One of the visitors said he had a quart of Pabst if anyone wanted some. There were no takers and he left to drink it himself. 35
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I learned later that Langford became a chicken Colonel in Air Force administration. More power to him. The future belongs to those who prepare for it.
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CHAPTER 4
THE 90 DAY TRANSFORMATION

ut! Hoo! Hee! Hor! Hut! Hoo! Hee! Hor! Column left... Hartch! The detail of 18 midshipmen in Columbia Universitys Midshipmans School turned left. There was a little confusion and skipping on the part of some to get back in step. Left! Left! I had a good wife but she left! Left! Left! the Ensign D.I. shouted impatiently. By the right ank... Hartch! The majority of our detail turned right sharply, but not everyone. Detail... Halt, Hut! Hoo! Order... Harms! The rie butts did not all hit the ground in unison. Not by a long shot. We stood rigidly as our D.I., Ensign Prentice, paced, digging for patience, struggling, apparently, for control. He was pompous and arrogant, overwhelmed by a sense of his own importance. Worse than that, he had what some Texans have, an irritating twang when he spoke. He loved the role. It couldnt have been better casting. Ensign Prentice nally gained enough composure 37
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The 90 Day Transformation
to speak. This is my seventh class of midshipmen, and you are the sorriest sad sacks of shit it has been my misfortune to meet. He paced and took deep breaths. You are here because the Navy needs ofcers! Pause. You those of you who are still here when Im through with you will be expected to be leaders of men. Sailors will be put in your charge and you will be responsible for their lives and some of you dont even know your right from your left. Ofcer candidates? God help the Navy! He paused to let that sink in, then continued, letting his eyes pass over us. Youve got your classes and you have to pass those, no question. But let me remind you that I turn in a report on your ability to learn your ability to receive, understand and execute orders. And trust me, not all of you are going to be here in ninety days. Some of you are going to bilge and take that long walk. His posturing was fascinating to watch. I was mesmerized. Cooper! Yes, sir. Did I put this detail at ease, Cooper? No, sir. Then youre still at attention. Is that correct? Yes, sir. Prentice came up to me and got inches from 38
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my face. Then your head and eyes should be facing straight ahead. Isnt that what you were told, Cooper? Yes, sir. Then what in the fuck are you looking at me for? Still shouting for the benet of the rest of the detail, Ensign Prentice ordered me to police the area, and if he found so much as a leaf or a eck of tobacco on the ground, Id be out there tonight with a ashlight. Detail. Dismissed! During Midshipmans training I think I started to develop an attitude toward the Navy. It could well have been Prentice who triggered it. I tried to be objective as I wondered if Prentice was giving me more shit than the others. Maybe I didnt take orders as blithely as some, but I obeyed. I executed the order promptly and efciently. But was there a little passive resistance that the ordering ofcer could sense rather than actually see? Quite possible. I really didnt like taking orders especially when they were shouted in my face. Rather than intimidating me, it angered me.
I made the cut. My grades were good enough and I knew my right from my left and in 90 days 39
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I became an ofcer and a gentleman. Prentice was right, however. Not everyone did make the cut. I met some great guys, good students, and already gentlemen, but apparently lacking something the Navy wanted in their ofcers. We watched them make that long walk across the parade ground carrying their belongings in the suitcases they had brought with them. Im sure it was a memorable walk for those who unked. At the graduation ceremonies in Riverside Chapel, I tossed my midshipmans 7G hat in the air along with the other 200 new Ensigns. As we led out of the church a number of ofcers stood at the entrance to greet us. We saluted and thanked each one. Ensign Prentice, our D.I., was there. I saluted him and looked him in the eye but withheld my thanks. I was kind of proud of myself for not making up to the bastard. What did I care? I wouldnt be seeing him again, or so I thought at the time. When I was alone in my room I checked myself out in my new uniform and adjusted my ofcers hat to a more rakish angle than perfectly upright, and even gave myself a quick salute. John Payne did it better, but it looked ne. Some guys never did learn to salute. Strange, such a simple thing. Orders for our new assignments would be cut tomorrow. We all wondered what our fate would 40
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be. At that moment the Navy didnt seem so bad. I tilted the hat a little more. A month after receiving my commission as Ensign I was assigned to the Little Creek, Virginia Amphibious Training Base to be trained to land on enemy-held beaches. Most of training consisted of boat handling, learning how to operate two kinds of Higgins Boats, or landing craft. One was the LCVP, designed to transport 30 assault troops or one Jeep and fewer troops. The other was the LCM, which could move a Sherman tank from ship to shore. It was a deadly routine that started at 0500 hours and wound up at 1600 hours in the waters of Chesapeake Bay, and lasted for two months. I would learn later that I was never called upon to operate these cantankerous craft. Enlisted personnel were assigned as coxswains, not ofcers... but the training went on day after day, seven days a week, monotonous and boring. Still, I became an expert boat handler, a skill I would never use. Another ofcer in my quonset hut said to me one day, Cooper, you want to get out of this crap? Theres a notice on the bulletin board you might want to check out something about transferring to another unit for an important assignment. My fellow officer failed to mention one vital sentence on the bulletin board notice. The important assignment was very hazardous duty. 41
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Curious, I proceeded to the designated quonset hut at the appointed time to sign up. I knocked on the door and entered. There was only one person in the building. To my surprise, it was Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., USNR, now a Lieutenant Commander, seated at a desk looking handsome and debonair just as on the screen. I introduced myself. He told me to sit down, asked a few questions, then said, Cooper, why do you want to get killed? I said I didnt want any such thing, but added, Perhaps you can give me more details, sir, about the duty. Fairbanks explained that a group of ofcers and men being assembled would be trained as Beach Jumpers, to go in advance of the rst wave of assault troops in an invasion to dismantle barriers to the beach landing, including the disabling of mines and booby traps. There would also be training in judo in case hand to hand combat became necessary. Fairbanks added that this special assignment would be for the Big One, the invasion of German-held beaches in Europe. As Fairbanks talked, several thoughts formed in my mind: As a young man, I was convinced of my immortality. I would be in an exciting, even glamorous operation. Fairbanks had broadly hinted about women who would be attracted to this group of heroes. Yes, I told Fairbanks, I would 42
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like to volunteer. Fairbanks looked at me quizzically, then said, Youre small I dont think youre strong enough. I offered to arm wrestle with him. He laughed, and said I would probably beat him, and he couldnt have that. He got up, and so did I. He would let me know; he had my billet number. I thanked him and left. I never heard from Fairbanks, but continued my boat handling training instead. Ye a r s l a t e r, a s a c i v i l i a n , I v i s i t e d t h e John Steinbeck museum in Salinas, California. I wandered from one exhibit to another; then came upon a photograph of my hero, Fairbanks, with Steinbeck and several other men, holding a big Nazi swastika ag. The inscription on the photograph read, Steinbeck with Lt. Commander Fairbanks and other Beach Jumpers photo taken shortly after Omaha Beach at Normandy had been secured. Steinbeck, the war correspondent, had reported in one of his dispatches that, Fairbanks and his group of ofcers and men had distinguished themselves by exceptional courage under intense enemy gunre, clearing Omaha Beach of obstacles, making it possible for a successful landing of the oncoming invasion troops. So heres to you, Doug, if youll pardon the familiarity. If I ever see you on the screen again as a Bengal Lancer, or in another role of derring-do, 43
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Ill know that you just didnt play heroic roles, you were a real hero. And you too, Clark and Jimmy, and Eddie Albert. You could have easily gone into Special Services, and worn your pinks, but you chose to y missions over Europe or to take part in the invasion of Tarawa when you knew that statistically there was a good chance you wouldnt make it back.
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CHAPTER 5
LOOKING FOR COMPANY
y shore leave up, after completing my Little Creek training, I arrived in downtown Norfolk. The trouble with being an ofcer and a gentleman in a strange town is that youre not expected to be lonely. U.S.O.s and Red Cross hospitality agendas were oriented towards enlisted men. Theyd drink the free coffee, devour the donuts, chat up the local girls and jitterbug to Little Brown Jug and String of Pearls. Even if Id known how to jitterbug it wouldnt have looked right. One didnt see ofcers sliding short-skirted girls between their legs, or having one straddle their waist. Ofcers, it seems, even lowly Ensigns, were supposed to be invited to someones house for dinner, there to talk with the parents and the daughter, who probably set it up in the rst place, and at a discreet hour thank them for the dinner and exit. There might have been a clearing house somewhere for these invitations but I didnt know where to start. 45
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Looking For Company
When I came out of the show, The Oxbow Incident , the late afternoon sun was blinding. I didnt know what to do with myself. It was too early for dinner. This was the last day of my threeday leave before reporting to the attack transport, USS John Tyler in the Norfolk Navy yard. I walked back to my hotel and had a drink at the bar. The civilian two seats from me was slightly drunk and well on his way to getting plastered. He wanted to talk service. Hed be in, he said, but hed had a pneumothorax as a kid and the doc said no way. The guy said he was really pissed. Hed like to get in there and mix it up. I can imagine, I said. He asked if Id seen any action. Not yet. What I was afraid would happen, happened. He moved himself and his drink beside me. I was assailed by the overpowering smell of whiskey on his breath. He spluttered about an uncle of his who ew for the R.C.A.F. in World War I. Got shot down behind enemy lines. The drunk tapped my chest with his forenger so Id be sure to get the point. It was the German doctors who saved his life and his arm. Three fucking operations. Magine that, a Kraut doctor doin that? But there was more honor and chivalry in that war. He had a little trouble with the word chivalry. The guy waited for my comment. God, why do drunks think you give a shit about what they have to say? 46
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Chapter 5
Thats amazing, I said. I polished off the drink, left a dollar and lied that that was my limit. I gave him a pat, wished him luck and walked out to the lobby. I crossed to the desk and asked for my key. There you are, Mr. Cooper. I felt lonely and going to my room was only going to make it worse. I turned away from the elevators and dropped into a chair by a potted palm. Every hotel had one in those days. Id watch people for a while and then go to dinner. Hi, sailor. You looking for company? The voice came from my right. I didnt look up but in my peripheral vision I saw a print dress at my side, and I smelled perfume. Id never been with a prostitute and I didnt want to get involved with one now. No, Im ne, thank you, I said. I got up and headed for the elevators without giving her a glance. I could show you a real nice time, sailor... she called. I pressed the elevator button, wishing shed shut up. I entered the elevator, joining the operator and an elderly couple. Just as the elevator door clanged shut I heard, ... And you wont have to share me with Mr. Stucke! 47
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Looking For Company
I felt the eyes of the elderly couple on my ushed face. Stucke? Who the hell was Stucke? Then it registered. Oh, my God! I said frantically to the elevator operator, Down, down! Take me down now I gotta get that girl! The operator looked to the elderly couple for permission to reverse course. I implored them, Its urgent! I cant let her get away... I need that girl! We all have to do our part, the lady nally said and pointed down instructing the elevator operator to descend. I mumbled to myself. Oh, God, if she gets away. I got her wide open, sailor, the operator assured me as we descended and he brought the car to a bouncing halt at the main oor. I charged out, bumping into Alberta, who was waiting right in front of the elevator door. Did I scare you, sailor? Alberta asked as she recovered from my jostling. Im so sorry, Alberta... I thought you were... I struggled for the right words. Thought I was what? What are you doing here? I asked, still yammering apologies. She explained that there was a special Navy appropriations hearing at the shipyard Mr. 48
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Peterson was attending, and he needed someone to transcribe his notes. She made a broad gesture that said, So here I am. I was delighted, excited, and I didnt mind showing it. This is great. Would you like to do something? Do you want to see Laura? Alberta said shed rather just walk around so we could talk. She looked beautiful. I steered her toward the door. A couple of G.I.s glanced our way enviously as we stepped out into the street. Good, eat your heart out, guys. We sat on a park bench, because Alberta worried about me getting grass stains on my whites. I told her how disappointed I was about Pearl Harbor interfering with my new job. The rst thing I thought about was that I wouldnt be seeing you every day. She smiled her thanks and took my hand. I dont remember what we talked about at dinner at the hotel. Families, school, siblings, stuff. I kept watching her lips, her eyes. The dining room was almost empty when we left. Time had own. We took the elevator to her oor. I remember there was a complimentary newspaper by the door. I picked it up, took the key from her hand and opened the door. Do you want to come in? she asked. Sure... I guess... for a minute. Thanks. 49
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Looking For Company
Alberta disappeared into the bathroom and I glanced at the headlines. I didnt know what to expect. I do know I was nervous as hell. I tossed the paper aside when Alberta came back. She presented herself before me. When I just smiled stupidly, she put her arms behind my neck and kissed me. A nice but solid kiss. Its great when girls take charge of those matters. There now, she said. Ive been wanting to do that. Me, too. She sat on the side of the bed and I felt it was incumbent upon me to sit beside her. This time I initiated the kiss. Alberta lay back. I kissed her again and cupped her breast. She put her hand on mine, probably to discourage further exploration. She looked at me seriously. Lee, I havent, I dont, and besides, I have the curse. The what? The curse. The curse? Forget it, she said. Lets read the paper. Dibs on the funnies. We took our shoes off and stretched out on the bed side by side. Alberta scrunched over until our arms and hips and thighs were pressed together. She read Maggie and Jiggs and Orphan Annie. I stared at the headlines. I was really glad it was going like this. For one thing, I didnt want her to 50
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know how little I knew about sex. Alberta read for a few minutes, then laid down the funnies and turned on her side facing me. She placed my arm around her and put her head on my shoulder. I dont remember actually saying a prayer, but I was thinking, Dear Lord, dont let me lose this wonderful girl. Bring me back safely and let her be waiting for me. Albertas breathing became heavier as she fell asleep. I would never tell this story to my fellow ofcers on the ship, that I was in a hotel room, lying in bed with a beautiful girl reading the Sunday papers. There would be hoots. I made it a point however, to nd out what the curse was.
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CHAPTER 6
THE OLD COIN TRICK
he following morning I took a taxi to the docks where my ship, the USS John Tyler, was berthed. On the ride I was thinking of Alberta, of our goodnight kiss in her room, of the goodbye kiss in the doorway. The promise to write. I think it was more than just a platitude when she said, Take care of yourself, Lee. I wanted to say I love you, because I did. But I thought it was too soon. Waiting for the elevator to come I glanced back toward her door. It was ajar and she was there looking at me. She formed a kiss and closed the door. The taxi driver thanked me for the tip and wished me good luck and I turned and faced the Tyler. It was to be my home for thirty months. It looked ungainly and awkward at the dock. The crew had dubbed the ship the Listing Tyler because she seemed to be perennially listing to port. Its distinctive feature was a single smokestack far out of proportion to the rest of the ship. It was difficult for me to 53
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The Old Coin Trick
believe that the Tyler had been the Manhattan, a cruise ship that had plied the Mediterranean during the 20s and 30s. The 600-foot hull displaced 30,000 tons. She had been retrotted to carry 20 landing craft and 1,000 troops, including a complement of 400 in the crew, or ships company. I would have preferred a cruiser or a destroyer, but the scuttlebutt at Midshipmans School was that destroyers and cruisers were rough riding. Put it out of your mind, Cooper. This is what youve been dealt. Make the best of it. N e r v o u s l y, I s t a r t e d u p t h e g a n g p l a n k . Arriving at the quarterdeck I gave my business card to the Ofcer of the Deck, the OOD, as I had been taught to do at Midshipmans School. Whats this? he asked. I was about to tell him it was to be presented to the Captain, following school instructions, when I realized I was about to make a damn fool of myself. I took the card back and never used one of the 100 that had been printed for me. The OOD motioned to a sailor to take my seabag and me to Ofcers Country where I would be assigned a room. I started to follow the sailor when a voice from the navigation bridge called down. Are you Cooper? I turned and looked up at Captain Boda who seemed to be glaring down at me. 54
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Yes, sir. When youre through with all that, report to my cabin. Yes, sir. I followed the sailor in silence. In Captain Bodas quarters I stood at attention about ten feet from his desk while he signed some papers, taking his sweet time, I thought. He put them aside and then leaned back in his chair, nally recognizing me. Boda stared at me for a while before speaking, checking the cut of my jib, I assumed. Well, well, well. Look at me, Mother, Im a 90 Day Wonder. I managed a chuckle. I guess so, sir. Whered you go to school, Cooper? Illinois, sir. Not one of those Hahvahd Yahd boys? No sir. Middle America. You dont look big enough for football. Did you play anything? Softball. Intramural. I boxed a little. Boda leapt on that. Oh, a tough guy, eh? I couldnt seem to say the right thing with this man. Again I tried to keep it light with a chuckle. No, sir. It was just neighborhood club stuff. A chance to pick up 25 bucks if I won. Should I say that I needed the money? 55
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No, better just answer the questions. It was difcult to determine, with him seated, but Boda looked to be a little under six feet and about 50 pounds overweight. His features were coarse and his nose and ears suggested hed probably been in a few ghts himself. When he pressed his ngertips together I didnt see an Annapolis ring. I think Boda noticed my glance and read my mind. Maybe this was the kind of reception every 90 Day Wonder got when he came aboard the John Tyler. But it was probably more than that. Perhaps I wasnt quite humble enough in his presence. Perhaps my gaze was too steady, my bearing too proud. I did feel proud in that uniform and it must have showed. Boda asked me a few more questions. My answers always evoked a sardonic retort. Id be glad to be out of there. He got up from his chair and in the same motion pulled some change from his pocket. He came around to the front of his desk and half sat on the edge of it, continuing to ask me routine questions as he played with the coins, dropping them rhythmically from one hand to another. Then one of the coins unexpectedly fell to the oor. I made the slightest, almost imperceptible, move to recover it. Captain Boda stood up and looked down. My impulse, which I had checked, was a courtesy 56
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to a superior ofcer, a courtesy to my fellow man. But an instantaneous thought had stopped me. This was no accident. It was a test, a test to see how we were going to relate. Captain Boda bent, picked up the coin and returned it to his pocket. His eyes bore into me. It must have been ve seconds. It felt much longer. Thats all, Cooper, he said. As I turned to leave, I noticed Boda just staring after me. If I had had time to think it through, I would have picked up the damn coin. Pride be damned, I had just made a big mistake. It was to be much bigger than I thought at the time. It would almost get me killed more than once. I was off on the wrong foot with Captain Boda and my life aboard the Tyler was to become a oating hell.
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CAPTAINS MAST
ed been underway three days, en route to Pearl Habor, and the seas had remained calm, as they were this night. An almost full moon cast a bright swath across the surface that followed us and spread over the USS John Tyler. I might as well have been on the Lurline cruising to Hawaii. There was, of course, always the danger of Jap torpedoes, but little we could do about that except keep a close watch and set a zigzag course. I had had no further contact with Captain Boda but from talk in the wardroom I gathered that this was not considered a happy ship. I tried a little Navy lingo and suggested a taut ship. Lt. Hix laughed and said, If it gets any tauter itll come apart. I let it drop. Personally, I hadnt seen anything one would not expect aboard a Navy vessel in hostile waters. Things began to change that moonlit night when the Executive Ofcer, Lt. Commander Tom Gatch, 59
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second in command of the Tyler, came into my quarters. There was a quality about Gatch that made him seem approachable, something that said hed hear you out and give you a straight answer. Though he was not by the book, Gatch performed his duties efficiently and maintained dignity at all times. His camaraderie in the wardroom was rationed. The crew obviously respected him as well as liked him. They knew he was fair and didnt sweat the small stuff. Gatch seemed to know the names of most of the enlisted men, remarkable considering the size of the crew. Fresh from Midshipmans School, I was quick with a brisk salute when encountering a superior, but I soon became aware that at sea much slack was cut re: military etiquette, even between ofcers and crew. But I also noticed that the ofcers and crew, including Gatch, never failed to salute Captain Boda. I was stretched out on my bunk in my Skivvies admiring a Petty concept of the female form when Gatch entered. By the time I got to my feet in position to stand at attention, Gatch had waved me down and swung his leg over the only chair. I sat erectly on the edge of my bunk. Hows it going, Cooper? Fine, sir. If youre not happy with the chow, or anything, 60
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just drop a note in the Captains suggestion box. I smiled and said Id remember that. It looks like youre the new J.A.G., Cooper. I was startled by his pronouncement. I am? I said. I dont have any legal experience, sir. You dont need any, said Gatch. You just listen to what the accused has to say in his defense for his appearance at Captains Mast. You repeat that to Captain Boda and hell pronounce sentence. Its always 30 days in the brig with bread and water. Nothing to it. What if the guys innocent? That seems to have little bearing on the sentence. Its never mattered in the past. I thought theyd give a job like that to someone whos been in a while, I said. Gatch sat there with a troubled look. Obviously, he had more to say but didnt know quite how to broach it. Cooper, you strike me as someone with a lot of pride and ethics someone who wants to do the right thing and all that crap. And thats good to a point. But its not worth getting your tit in a wringer over. Just remember youre not Clarence Darrow and dont try to be. The accused is guilty as charged and the punishment is 30 days in the brig. It may not t the crime, but thats it. What if I can prove hes innocent? 61
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Gatch spoke slowly, enunciating carefully. You dont hear well, do you Clarence? The accused is guilty as charged and the punishment is 30 days in the brig on bread and water. There was silence in the small quarters as Gatch let that sink in. Then Gatch said that Gunners Mate First Macia failed to report to his battle station when General Quarters was sounded. Why? What difference does it make? Im trying to give you some advice here, Counselor, and youre not listening. Macia failed to report to his battle station when General Quarters sounded. 30 days in the brig. Capische? Captains Mast is noon tomorrow. Keep your nose clean, Cooper. He rose and started to leave. The curtain to my cabin was almost closed, then it parted again. Gatch stood there formulating his thoughts. This comes from Tom Gatch, good ol boy, not Lt. Commander Gatch, Executive Ofcer of the Tyler. Okay? Yes, sir. Did you pick up the coin? What coin, sir? Listen, Cooper. Im sticking my neck out here, so dont play games. Did you pick up the fucking coin that Captain Boda dropped? No, sir. I didnt. I started to and... 62
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But you didnt. Gatch stepped back into the r o o m l e tting the curtain close behind him. C a p t a i n B o d a s w h a t w e c a l l a M u s t a n g, an enlisted man whos become an ofcer due to the exigencies of war. Hes been in well over 20 years. Hes swabbed decks and chipped paint and wiped engines and probably taken his share of crap. But thanks to the war hes a Captain now, and it pisses him royally to see snotty-nosed kids become ofcers in 90 days. Understandable. Particularly if youre packing a little baggage, and we all do. He also knows he couldnt become a gentleman in 90 years. That pisses him too. Thats why he loves to see those college boys bend down before him. It also tells the Captain how high theyre gonna jump when he says frog. Thats why he calls em up to his quarters soon as they come aboard. Ive never heard one ofcer mention it, but Id bet all of them picked it up. Then Gatch looked at me squarely and carefully enunciated, Only the stupid ones, the ones with in-te-gri-ty, dont. What can I do? I asked. My voice was weak. Weather it. Hope it goes away. It probably wont. Gatch started out the door again, then turned back. And Cooper. If I hear one whisper of this conversation from anywhere, I personally will chuck you overboard. He exited, leaving me standing there badly shaken. 63
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By 0800 hours the next day, I was halfway to the laundry room where my client worked. I realized I should have sent for Macia, but hell, I was already there. Somebody called attention when I entered the steamy, noisy connes of the laundry room. I put the men at ease and one of them pointed out Macia. He was an apple-cheeked youth, a little overweight, who looked about 18. I suggested we get to a place where we could talk and led the way to the deck where I told him that I would be representing him at Captains Mast tomorrow. Was there anything he wanted to tell me? Macia said hed reported to sick bay earlier that day with a urinary infection. The doctor called it non-specic urethritis. I told him thats what condoms were for. Yes, sir, he continued. And I was lying on a gurney with a thermometer in my mouth and a catheter up my... in me, when General Quarters sounded. I started to get up but the doctor told me to stay put. We werent being attacked. It was a drill. He said that exact thing, sir. Stay put. I didnt know what to do, so I stayed there. From what I understand, Captain Boda doesnt have any tolerance for infractions, but Ill present your case. Put on clean fatigues, Macia. 1200 hours, outside the Captains cabin. I started to move off when Macia called to me, 64
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Sir... ah... Pearl is my home. I was born on Oahu and when I knew we were headed there I wrote my parents and theyre expecting me. Id hate to miss them before... before... we get into something, you know... heavy. I nodded and continued on, running my summation through my mind. Gunners Mate Macia was on sick call and was only obeying orders from a superior officer when he failed to report to his G.Q. station. Id leave out the word battle. It would sound better without battle station. Even the worst hanging judge would have to take such mitigating circumstances into account. I wasnt sure how one dressed for a Captains Mast, but I played it safe and put on a tie. Macia wore clean fatigues, as I had instructed. When all the hands on my watch were straight up, I knocked on the Captains door. The Captain came out, followed by the Master-At-Arms. The three of us stood at attention the M.A.A., Macia and I facing Boda, who stood behind a podium. A belaying pin lay upon the podium, holding the document stating the charge against the miscreant, Macia. His eyes were focused on me, I would say challengingly. Upon a nod from Boda, the M.A.A. read the charge against my client. Boda continued to glare at me. Do you have anything to say, Mr. Cooper? Boda, I noted, leaned heavily on Mister. 65
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Yes, sir. Gunners Mate Macia had reported to sick bay that morning and was being tended to by the senior medical ofcer, SMO Commander Baron. Macia had been diagnosed with non-specic urethritis, and he was in a hospital gown in bed with a catheter in his penis to facilitate urination, when General Quarters sounded. Macia wanted to report to his post, sir, and even started to get off the gurney but was ordered by Dr. Baron to remain where he was. It was a direct order from a superior ofcer, sir. When I sound General Quarters, said Boda, that is an order from the Captain of this ship. Yes, sir. Im not saying that Dr. Baron was countermanding your order, sir. He told my client that it was just a practice drill. How did the SMO know that? I guess he assumed it, sir, because the other recent General Quarters were practice. Youre saying, Mr. Cooper, that it should be left to the discretion of all the ofcers and men on this ship as to whether Im serious or not when I give an order? No, sir. Thats what youre saying when you defend the SMO, isnt it? Somehow, Macias infraction was being overlooked, and I was the one on trial. Thats why 66
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Gatch had cautioned me not to be Clarence Darrow. Thats indeed why I had been appointed J.A.G. by the Captain. Boda wanted to get me in here and let me hang myself, and I had already put the noose around my neck. God, why didnt I pick up that goddamn coin? Captain Boda was a little rough around the edges, but Captain of a ship, not a ship of the line, but a bona de U.S. Navy vessel nevertheless, and he knew it. I asked you a question, Mr. Cooper! No, sir, not at all. Boda, with his eyes focused on me, said, 30 days in the brig, bread and water. Yes, sir, I said. Then, trying to salvage something out of this, I asked, Sir, would it be possible for Macia to serve a split sentence, part now and part after we leave Pearl? His parents... Goddamn it, Cooper, what the hells the matter with you? You dont approve of my sentence? Youd like this man to serve his sentence at a more convenient time? I could give up my quarters for him if that would be more to your liking. I kept my mouth shut, for once. Addressing the M.A.A., Fowler, take this man to the brig, barked Boda. As the M.A.A. led Macia away, I also turned to leave. 67
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Did I dismiss you, Cooper? I immediately whirled, faced Captain Boda, and came to rigid attention. No, sir. Cooper, what we dont need on this ship is a smart-ass Ensign. Do you understand me? Yes, sir. Youre conned to quarters for 30 days. For what, sir? For insubordination, and because I said so. Are those good enough reasons, Cooper? Yes, sir. Dismissed. I saluted and left. My client, Macia, did not see his parents, though I got word to them that their sons duties aboard ship made him indispensable. I got in a lot of reading in my quarters. I was allowed on deck when General Quarters sounded or going to and from ofcers mess, but what I saw of Pearl during the week we were in port, I saw mostly through a porthole. Wreckage of the December 7 bombing was still visible. When I encountered Gatch in a passageway, he ignored me. He just muttered stupid cunt as he passed. That became his pet name for me for the duration. I couldnt argue.
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THE CAVE
endova, the island with the beautiful womans name, was one of my several battle experiences as a landing craft ofcer. The Japs had decided not to contest the landings at Rendova. They would use the same strategy theyd used earlier at Guadalcanal, group for counterattack from their hill positions. My landing craft had scraped to a landing on the black, sandy beach and the infantry soldiers who had been in my boat led out casually, easily, as if they were in some kind of routine practice exercise and not openers for a battle with the Japs. There was no enemy gunre, no confusion, but I felt a vague feeling of apprehension, almost palpable, that something was going to happen. My orders were to stand by on the beach to pick up the wounded for transport to the hospital ship standing off shore. In the meanwhile, I told my coxswain to keep his boat headed into the beach, and avoid broaching.
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I debarked and walked over to the Beachmaster and asked if he had other instructions for me. No, just stand by... On second thought, I need someone to go to the CP (Command Post) to radio for supplies. He scribbled a list of things he needed and gave it to me. Wheres the CP? I asked. Follow those soldiers. Theyre going toward it, or theyll tell you where it is. I went back to my boat, telling my coxswain to stand off the beach until I got back, then headed toward the soldiers just then disappearing the jungle. My apprehension mounted as I walked; sweat was pouring down my back. I thought: Why the hell did I go over to the Beachmaster? Why didnt I simply stay in the boat? Those were my orders. By the time I got to the edge of the jungle the soldiers were no longer in sight, so I followed the path of trampled grass theyd made. In the distance, not too far, was the sound of small arms re, but I couldnt tell who was ring, the Japs or the G.I.s. The battle sounds grew louder as I got deeper into the jungle. The trail had become less distinct and I wondered if Id made a wrong turn somewhere. I stopped and took stock of my predicament. If I continued toward the ring, Id nd the G.I.s for sure, but there was also a good chance of 70
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getting killed. There were several choices. If I got off by myself I would be easy pickings for the entrenched Japs. I studied the jungle around me. The re now seemed to be coming from a wider spectrum. What in hell was I doing here carrying a damned piece of paper that was going to get me picked off? My job simply was to deliver soldiers to the beach and take the wounded back to the hospital ship. There could be wounded on the beach right now who needed to get life-saving medical attention fast. I read the list. Nothing seemed that important. Wadding up the scrap of paper, I threw it as far as I could. It didnt carry very far and lodged in some tropical plant, conspicuously. I deliberated, then turned and headed back down the path toward the beach. Gradually my pace slowed and, about 100 yards down the path, I came to a complete stop. I knew I would live with this moment and that act, the rest of my life. If I got killed it would be one up for Boda, but if I survived this war, I would pack this act home with me and keep it forever. I went back up the hill, recovered the paper, folded it as neatly as I could and put it in my breast pocket. Facing the jungle and the sound of gunre, I made a decision. It turned out to be the right one and I came upon a Corporal who directed me to the CP, where I gave the list to the ofcer in charge, 71
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a Captain. He seemed pleased to get it, instructing a soldier at the walkie-talkie to send it. We make a lot of decisions in life, good and bad. I am so glad, so glad, I did what I did. While I was hunkered down in this makeshift CP a soldier came to the post and said there was a cave up the trail and they could hear Jap voices in it. The Captain instructed a Lieutenant to check it out; the Lieutenant invited me along. We followed the soldier to a terraced area where two other soldiers were standing near a clump of bushes next to a limestone cliff, no doubt the cave entrance. Two 55-gallon drums of gasoline stood by the cave entrance. In there, sir, you can hear voices, one soldier said. The Lieutenant motioned for silence and edged closer to the cave. Even from where I stood, I could hear Japanese. The Lieutenant, standing to the side, leaned over and shouted, in Japanese, Surrender! Silence from the cave. He shouted again in Japanese and English, Surrender! Then he straightened and said to the group, Shit, they had their chance. We cant leave em in there. He motioned toward the gasoline drums and said to a Sergeant standing nearby, Go ahead. Itll be short n sweet.
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A Sergeant with a brace of grenades fastened to his web belt seemed anxious to help. He put down his BAR and rolled the first drum up to the entrance and emptied the contents into the cave. Now there was angry shouting from inside. The process was repeated with the second drum. The shouting became hysterical. Im certain the occupants knew what their fate was going to be. The second empty drum was shoved aside and the Sergeant looked at the Lieutenant, who nodded permission. We all stepped back while the Sergeant pulled the pins from one grenade after another and threw them inside. The Japanese screams and swearing were drowned out by several successive explosions. White and black smoke blew out of the cave and with it came the unmistakable smell of burning esh. The screaming had stopped. I watched all this in horror. I was an ofcer whose duty it was to deliver and recover combatants, and here I was participating in the incineration of human beings. I had heard and read stories about the cruelty of soldiers in combat who relieved their anger and fears by acts such as I was witnessing. These guys did not look like green troops. They had found the bodies of their friends bound and bayonetted or beheaded, and this was payback. What convention? Wheres Geneva?
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I didnt want anyone to see me throw up, so I headed back to the CP and the beach, away from the scene, away from the sickening odor.
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CHAPTER 9
BLOODY TARAWA
arawa, or Bloody Tarawa as a war correspondent famously labeled it in his report to Life magazine, was one of my six invasions as a landing craft ofcer. It was the worst. This atoll in the Gilbert Islands now called Kiribati it does sound something like Gilbert in the native argot was considered important in the stepping stones to Japan for one reason; there was an airstrip on it. Everything about this particular battle was screwed up from the outset. There was virtually no softening up prior to the landings unlike later invasions when days of heavy naval and air bombardment prepared the way for the assault troops. It seems the experts, who forecasted the tide conditions, picked the exact time for the initial landings when the tide was ebbing, increasing the likelihood of landing craft getting hung up on the coral reefs fronting the beach and making them even easier targets for the enlading re the Japs
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set up. The LVTs (Landing Vehicle Tank) were a new and untried craft that had virtually no freeboard; They foundered easily in even moderate seas, and to top it off the thin armor offered scant protection from Jap automatic weapons re. Statistics of the number of Marines who drowned or were killed before their LVTs reached shore are uncertain, but 3,500 Marines died taking that atoll and fewer than 100 Japanese survived. Altogether there were 8,000 casualties. (I hope the Marine Second Division veterans of the Tarawa madness will forgive me for laying bare what actually happened, leading to the deaths of so many brave young men in this needless battle.) My boat group was assigned as the rst wave to land at Beach Red on Betio, the island with the airstrip and hence where the Jap defenses were concentrated. With my three-man crew and thirty Marines in our LCVP we headed to the demarcation line marked by anking destroyers banging away at the island with their ve-inch guns as we started toward the atoll, I noticed a six-foot blue shark swimming alongside, perhaps sensing we were an imported delicacy. Leaving the demarcation line, I stood up on the boats engine box and used ags to signal the other nine boats in my group to form up. The ten LCVPs moved steadily toward the beach. My coxswain, 76
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an 18-year-old named Cockrell, tapped my leg and shouted that he saw white water breaking ahead. It could be a reef. I studied the surface ahead, but splashes from mortar shells were marching toward the craft. Maybe that was what Cockrell had seen. I could see nothing that suggested a reef. Again, Cockrell shouted that he was sure hed seen white water. We were going to get hung up. There was a note of hysteria in his voice. Myriad thoughts tumbled through my mind... I had already signaled the other boats to form up and move forward, presenting a united front that would keep the defenders from concentrating their re on isolated craft. Any contrary move, at this juncture, by the lead boat could cause confusion. A coordinated assault was vital to minimizing casualties and getting Marines ashore. I s a w w h i t e w a t e r, s i r, I k n o w I d i d , shouted Cockrell. Were going to be sitting ducks! Standing on the engine box, I squinted at the water ahead. I saw only Jap mortar fire coming closer and closer to the invading craft. This undoubtedly was what Cockrell had seen. Some of the Marines, jammed in the bottom of the craft, looked back at Cockrell and me, hoping we knew what the hell we were doing and that they were in good hands. They were scared enough without this uncertainty. 77
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A few days earlier Boda had dressed me down, accusing me of passive resistance, or even insubordination, to orders or arguing the wisdom of an order hed given. Bodas words and image were still vivid in my mind. Damn it, Cooper, when youre given an order from a superior ofcer, you obey it, period. Im not interested in the opinions of every half-assed 90 Day Wonder that comes down the pike. Im in command of this ship and when I give you an order, you hop to. If I want your two cents worth Ill ask for it. Now get to your duty station! My orders were to lead these 10 LVCPs to the beach. The command had been given to me and it was my responsibility to get as many craft to shore as possible and get as many Marines as possible on the beach in one piece. I didnt see any white water and I couldnt have some scared shitless 18-year-old telling me how to run this operation. I think we should slow down, sir. Just shut up, Cockrell, and hold the course. My survival instincts were to heed Cockrells urgent advice, or even veer hard to port or starboard, which would have put us on a collision course with the boat on either side. Suddenly, a mortar shell burst close by showering us all. My eyes met with those of a young Marine looking back at me anxiously. Those 30 lives were also in my charge. 78
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I had to make the right decision for them. Or was my own life prominent in the equation? When I received my commission as an ofcer in the U.S. Navy, I swore I would do whatever was necessary to defend my country, including die, if need be. All these thoughts ooded through my mind swifter than I can say them here. My LCVP came to a crunching halt. Marines were thrown forward in a heap, carbines, ammo boxes and other supplies came loose and were projected forward. A rm grip on the wheel kept Cockrell on his feet, and the engine box was all that kept me from landing in that swearing pile of Marines. I ordered full astern. The craft shuddered but did not budge. Mortar re was drenching us with geysers of seawater. Lower the fucking ramp! someone shouted. Get us out of here! I wrestled with that decision as the craft continued to shudder. To unload them this far from the beach would be disastrous. They would drown. Then a deafening explosion and a blinding white ash as a mortar made a direct hit on our boat among the Marines. I came to oating, my kapok life jacket having kept my head above water. Cockrell was nearby, dazed but conscious. Those few Marines who had survived the blast were not equipped with life jackets, and were burdened 79
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down with heavy packs. For a brief period, as in a nightmare, I saw a few ailing in the water. Then it was just Cockrell and me. Together we swam in the bloody water through body parts toward an LCM, another landing craft whose stern was projecting up in the air. It had also been hit by Jap re, but remained precariously aoat. Cockrell and I climbed aboard and hunkered down behind the boats armored coxswains station, where her controls and wheel were located. Whenever we peered around the armor the Japs would open with machine gun re. We were probably seventy-ve yards or so from the beach. The two of us remained crouched behind this minimal shelter for what seemed an eternity. The machine gun re was becoming more sporadic, and succeeding waves of landing craft carried more Marines to the beach. The Japs had either been killed or driven inland and the Jap re nally stopped altogether, allowing an LCVP to pick us up. Cockrell never mentioned the reef, nor did I. The ofcer aboard said he was taking us to the USS Charity, the Navy hospital ship standing offshore. No matter how carefully planned, and the invasion of Tarawa was poorly planned, a battle becomes a chaotic mix of confusion, bravery, survival, desperation and resourcefulness. The side that makes the fewest mistakes wins. Ive sometimes mulled the concept. 80
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Hundreds, maybe thousands of years and generations earlier, an ancestor of mine evaded an arrow, ducked a mace, survived the thrust of a spear, or the swipe of a sword, and jammed his weapon forward seconds earlier than an opposing sword and that happenstance had put me and my children on this planet at this time. A fraction of an inch in the ight of a bullet, one way or another, either abruptly ended a lineage or kept it on earth. For whatever reason, luck or Gods will, I survived that direct mortar hit to marry, have a home, sire children, who I hope will reach adulthood between wars that seem inevitable. Wars that man brings upon himself. To think that Hitler could be responsible for the deaths of millions and millions of humans, that they could all be herded to, or sent to slaughter because of the ambitions of one man, one man, is beyond comprehension. The lineage of the young Marines in my boat ended in one terrible blast. There were children waiting to be born, to have their colds, throw cottage cheese on the oor, have schoolyard scraps, fall in love, bear children, maybe even make life better for their fellow man. But those children would not come into this world because a mortar shell landed in the middle of an LCVP under my command. Coming aboard the Charity a corpsman led Cockrell and me to sick bay where we both 81
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showered, scrubbing the dried blood off our skin. A Navy doctor came by and examined us. Cockrells eyes did not track with the doctors pencil ashlight, and he was diagnosed with concussion and kept aboard. After looking me over, the doctor said, Theres nothing the matter with you you can go back to the battle. Why the fuck dont you go back to the battle, asshole. I dont know how many stripes he wore, but Im sure he outranked an Ensign. But it was no time to get involved in Navy protocol. There were other patients that needed his attention and he walked away. I heard him muttering, Coward. Nevertheless, his order stood. In his diagnosis I was mentally and physically ready to return to battle. I wasnt. A great depression had overcome me. I was drained of any physical energy and my thoughts were blurred and confused. I put on my dirty, bloody clothing, nodded a goodbye to Cockrell and went up on deck. There was an LCVP at the foot of the accommodation ladder. The coxswain asked, Where to, sir? I sat there in a stupor on the engine box, not answering. Sir? Sailor, you see that island out there? He looked where I was pointing to a tiny speck 82
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of
land on the outer fringes of Tarawa atoll. Yes, sir. Take me there. Sir, I dont know if Im supposed to... Take me there, damn it. Thats an order. Aye, aye, sir. The coxswain cast off and we headed toward the
green speck on the horizon. There was no further conversation between us during our trip. I cant say that I thought about what had happened. I tuned out everything. The ships, the trip to Betio were soon far behind me. The LCVPs ramp dropped at the beach. As I went ashore the coxswain asked, When should I come back to pick you up, sir? I didnt answer but simply headed off into a coconut palm grove a hundred yards away. I heard the sound of the ramp being pulled up and the accelerated engine as the LCVP backed off. Soon that sound was no longer audible. There was probably intense gunre on Betio, but I couldnt hear it, just the soft breeze working through the palm fronds overhead. I slumped to the ground and used one of the palm trunks as a back rest for a while, then lay on my side. I could only imagine the activity that was taking place as Betio was being secured, but I could neither 83
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see any of this activity nor hear it. That was ne with me. I slept, then made a cursory inspection of my surroundings. I was getting thirsty. The fact that I hadnt brought my canteen testied to the state of my mind when I asked to be dropped here. I looked up at the coconuts overhead. Even if I had the energy, I knew I did not have the skills to safely climb one of those slanting trunks. One little area became home. The temperature, even at night, was in the high 70s and there was no need for covers. The second night, I thought I heard footsteps. There was no animal life that I knew of on these islands that could make such a heavy sound. If it was a native, why didnt he make his presence known? If it was a Jap, do your damnedest. At the moment life did not seem that precious. A bullet or a bayonet might be the answer. The old gag about seasickness seemed appropriate. At rst youre so sick youre afraid youre going to die, then you become so sick you hope you do. I was somewhere in there. The third day, maybe it was less, maybe more, I knew I needed liquid. I searched the ground for a fallen coconut without being at all selective about ripeness. Unable to nd a sizeable rock I threw the coconut against a tree trunk. It hit the trunk and dropped unharmed. Three attempts conrmed that this was not the answer. 84
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I returned to camp, recovered my trench knife and took the two objects to the shore where I buried the handle of the knife in the packed sand, then holding the coconut in both hands I repeatedly pounded it against the upright blade. It sapped my strength and twice I had to stop and rest. Maybe I did want to live, or I wouldnt be going through this. Thirst is a great motivator. I cut my left hand in the process but I nally had the brous husk off and a hole in the shell. The precious milk was running out onto the sand and the knife pulled free of the sand before it came loose from the nut. I lay back and held it overhead, letting the milk track down the knife into my mouth, taking with it a certain amount of sand. It didnt taste quite like I remembered, but it was wet. I lay on the shore exhausted but refreshed. An hour or so later I had uncontrollable diarrhea, which I could only attribute to green coconut milk which of course defeated the purpose by further dehydrating me. What a wretched spectacle I must have made, skinny, bearded, washing my shitty shorts and pants in the surf. Every activity was exhausting and I stumbled back to my camp at the base of the palm tree. My head was starting to clear some and the isolation that earlier had seemed so appealing and essential was now causing serious concern. I would like to have been on that hospital ship between 85
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clean sheets. Even the menace of Boda seemed preferable to this. Im sure he was privately pleased I had not returned from the invasion. Thats the way it crumbles. Cest la guerre, and good riddance. I considered my prospects for survival. It was unlikely the Navy would nd me here alive. I was far too remote from the scene of activities. I obviously had not thought it through when I asked to be put ashore here. Not at all. I thought of my parents and what they would make of M.I.A., w h i ch a l way s l e f t a r ay o f h o p e u s u a l l y unwarranted. I thought of Alberta. She would never even be notied and left to come to her own conclusions as to why I didnt call. I lost track of time, but it must have been the fourth or fth day when a few Navy Corsairs swung over this remote extension of the atoll. They were single planes, not a formation, which suggested that a scouting operation took them pretty far aeld. They might have been operating off a carrier or even off the newly-acquired landing strip on Betio. The Corsairs would be gone a long time before returning. They ew high and I knew my wave was pointless, but I did it anyway. I was lying on my side at my base camp when I realized someone was shaking me. I rolled on my back and looked up at the coxswain who had brought me here. 86
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Sir, theres talk about a Jap task force from Truk coming this way. Most of the ships are pulling out. You better come while you can. I was unable to get to my feet but he pulled me up and I stood there unsteadily. You want to put your pants on, sir? I didnt answer but he helped me put them on and supported me as we went to the beach. I stumbled up the boats ramp and then laid down on the deckboards. Water, I said, and he provided a canteen. I knew better than to gulp it down and lose it, but I sipped it until the canteen was empty. I directed the coxswain toward the Tyler, anchored among a group of ships in the far distance. Soon the Tylers hulk loomed before us, the disembarkation net still draped on its side. My rescuer maneuvered the LCVP alongside and guided me as I grabbed a crosspiece of the net. He continued to hold my arm. You going to be okay, sir? In answer I started climbing and I heard the boat pull away from the Tyler. About halfway up the net, with another twenty or thirty feet to the main deck, I found I could not ascend farther. It took all my strength just to hang o n . I c o u l d n o t a d v a n c e t o t h e n e x t r u n g. I remained there, suspended on the net like a y 87
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in amber. I locked my arm through the rung and hung there. You okay? I looked up to see two sailors at the rail taking in my situation. As bad off as I was, it was not easy to say that I needed help. Captain Boda relieved me of the decision. I heard his voice from the bridge: You men report to your stations. Boda had undoubtedly seen the LCVP come alongside with me in it. I heard one of the sailors call back to Boda, Sir, its Mr. Cooper. I think he needs help. Mr. Cooper is quite capable of coming aboard by himself. Report to your stations, were getting underway! I heard no more from the rail above me and I clung to the net. The hull began to vibrate and I looked down to see the water easing past the ship. The vibrations didnt help and I tried to lock my grip on the net as the water moved past below faster and faster. I learned later that Boda, after telling the sailors I was quite capable of ascending the net, had gone into the wheel house where he could no longer be privy to my predicament. If he saw me drop into the sea, he would have to come about and rescue me. If I became M.I.A., that was part of the cost of taking Tarawa. Besides, there was a Jap task force 88
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approaching and he had the responsibility of this ship and hundreds of men. All that could not be jeopardized for the sake of one recalcitrant ofcer. Boda would have all the answers if it ever came to a Court of Inquiry, and it never would. So I hung there. Often, when Id read news reports of ships capsizing at sea, with passengers clinging to the upturned hull, and noted in the story that when dawn came several of the victims had slipped into the water during the night and disappeared, others hung on and were rescued. What separated them? Was it physical strength or a determination to cling to the boat and life itself? I often wondered if I would be there in the morning or joined those who found it easier to just let themselves slip into the dark waters. I looked down at the sea which now had a white wake, as the ships vibrations tried to shake me loose. The sea beckoned. Put your arms around my neck, sir. It was Washington, one of the ships Stewards Mates, a mountainous black man. I followed his instructions and he started climbing easily, mounting the net with me. Reaching the main deck, I slid off his back. Thanks, Washington. He moved off. I called after him, repeating my thanks. But he ignored me. Washington and I were 89
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not particularly close, but always mutually respectful in the wardroom. Crew members, though they might discuss it among themselves, steered clear of letting ofcers know of their views of particular ofcers, pro or con. Im certain, however, that Washington was aware Boda had singled me out as his whipping boy. He also knew that if the Captain was aware Washington had gone down the net to pull me to safety, he would get every shit detail on the ship. Washington had stuck his neck out way out to save my life, but he didnt want it to be known that he had done a good deed for the Captains pet fall guy. Survival takes on many forms. Cross a Captain aboard ship, especially a sociopath, and your life can become hell. I hope if Washington is still alive and reads this, hell accept my heartfelt thanks. There was never any discussion in the wardroom, or among the Tylers ofcers, about my ignominious return to the Tyler. I dont think Boda ever did know how I got on deck. But the other ofcers seemed to show a certain new respect for Washington. One of the ships doctors had been told of my return to the Tyler and came by with a corpsman to help me to sick bay where I stayed about a week. The SMO came by a few times to see me. In addition to dysentery, I was told I was suffering 90
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from traumatic something-or-other. In World War One it was shell shock. Thats what you have, said the doctor. Thats why your hands are trembling and your legs are twitching involuntarily, plus the low-grade fever. Youre a classic case. The SMO said I would be temporarily relieved of my landing craft duties and assigned to less hazardous ones for the time being, as had been arranged for the coxswain, Cockrell. He said he was going to request a duties assignment of the Captain. No, Ill be okay, I assured the doctor. That wont be necessary. I felt that a reassignment would be unfair to my boat crews. They would continue landing operations during the next invasion while I was kept out of harms way on the ship. I did not view myself as a hero in any fashion, but a rapport had developed between me and the boat crews and I did not feel comfortable deserting them. Several days later, with the help of rest and medication, the tremors ceased, my fever abated and I was released from sick bay. On unsteady legs I returned to my room. Gatch, the Exec, was standing in the passageway. He shook his head as I passed, then bellowed, Cooper, youre just as I thought a stupid cunt. Good man, that, I heard him say as he walked away. He had heard that I had refused the 91
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temporary reassignment. Tarawa: The New Atlantis
The nal mockery: Tarawa and other atolls among the Gilbert Islands AKA Kiribati as the Polynesians now call their island nation has begun to sink under the sea. The curse of the industrial world, global warming, is causing the oceans around Tarawa to lap at the roads leading from Beach Red. Soon, the airstrip will be washed over by the rising tides. The natives will ultimately depart Tarawa, leaving behind WWII detritus and the ghosts of those who died in a senseless battle.
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ompared to the landings at Tarawa the invasion of Aitape in New Guinea was a walk in the park. There was that sound of distant gunre from the hills but nothing up close and personal. I had delivered my third boatload of assault troops to Red Beach, Aitape. Defensive re had diminished considerably and seemed to be coming from higher up in the hills, but still the enemy shelling continued, and not every soldier, even in the third load, made it to the jungle. I ordered the ramp pulled up and the bowhook was quick to obey. This was our last load and we were all glad to be out of there. It was my coxswain, Humbach, who called Sir! and pointed to the boats starboard corner. A Naval ofcer, a Lieutenant Senior Grade, squatted in the corner. He looked familiar. I ordered him off the boat, shouting above the explosions. In a tremulous voice he said he had to go back to the ship. Hed forgotten something. As soon as he opened his mouth with that Texan nasal twang, 93
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I realized it was Prentice, my old drill instructor from Midshipmans School. I doubt he remembered me. Whats your assignment? I shouted. He didnt answer. He just said he had to go back to the ship. Get off the boat, Prentice, youre putting us in danger. I saw a puzzled look on Prentices face: How did I know his name? Ive really got to go back to the ship, he persisted. A mortar shell landed nearby sending shrapnel ringing against the boat, showering us with sand and water. Shoot im, sir, said Humbach, a little hysterical. Im sure I would never have shot him, but I removed my .45. Get off this boat, Prentice! Thats an order! Maybe he thought I would shoot him. Prentice rose on unsteady feet, taking an interminable amount of time to reach the ramp and disembark. He then shufed toward the jungle. I never saw Prentice again. However, I recalled his words at Midshipmans School... You will be expected to be leaders of men. Sailors will be put in your charge and you will be responsible for their lives. Ofcer candidates? God help the Navy. He probably thought he could go on playing John Wayne in that cushy berth for the duration. Small war. The delay getting Prentice ashore brought on further complications and danger. There was 94
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always the unexpected in battle. The bowhook was raising the ramp when the beachmaster, using a megaphone, shouted to me that they needed ammo, especially Bangalores. I shouted back, Yes, sir. A very brave man with a particularly dangerous job. I cant imagine why he was still standing. As the name implies, he was in charge of all the activity and logistics on the beach, directing the landing of boats and off-loading their cargo, including men and material. I heard Humbach say shit several times. He was hoping, as we all were, that our job was over and we could get back to the safety of the Tyler. If we had wounded aboard, better yet. We would go all the way out to the hospital ship. That would take time. We were still doing our duty and if someone secured the beach in the interim so much the better. Wed lived to land another day. I waved to the Beachmaster, shouted Roger and we backed off. That had been our third trip and I felt like I was getting to know the Beachmaster. A big guy, sounded Southern. But that fucking Prentice had put us in harms way more than I had gured. At the Tyler, we took on a load of ammo of several calibers, including a box of Bangalore torpedoes. Just as we were about to cast off, a sailor yelled down, Hold it, sir. Heres another couple of boxes 95
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of ammo youre ordered to take. But you have to be very careful handling it, sir. Very sensitive. I called up, What is it? Blasting caps fulminate of mercury, sir. Whose order was that? Above the din, the unmistakable snarl of Boda, The order comes from the bridge, Mr Cooper. Any questions? No, sir. Boda looked down from the bridge expressionless as the added cargo was lowered into my boat. The seas had picked up in the meanwhile. We didnt know about Murphys Law then, but FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition) was its WWII equivalent. Naturally, in keeping with FUBAR one of the boxes of fulminate of mercury, the little explosive caps, had broken open and had spilled its contents of maybe 20 or 30 caps onto the deckboards of the boat, and were sloshing around in several inches of water, banging against each other. I watched the damn things for a moment, paralyzed with fear, then told Crane, the bowhook, to go aft with the coxswain. I walked gingerly toward the little doughnut-shaped objects, almost as if I were stalking a savage beast. I placed the empty detonator box on one of the ammo cans, then very carefully picked up one after another, placing each in the box. I had to steady one hand with the other as I secured 96
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the sensitive explosive devices in the metal container. When they were all secured, I started breathing again. We rode the boat on the next breaker into the beach. The ramp was lowered and my friend, the Beachmaster came over and shouted through his megaphone, Stand by, Ill get you unloaded. He started running off toward some soldiers when he received a direct hit from a shell. I stared in disbelief, watching his upper body vanish. His legs seemed to move a step or two on their own. Now there was one brave man. Some soldiers who obviously hated the assignment came from the jungle and started unloading the ammunition from our boat onto a half-track. I and my crew helped. The Japs directed some of their re toward us. This increased the tempo and the anxiety of our unloading operation. The Jap re was getting more intense, and though my boat was not completely unloaded we had reached the point of diminishing returns. Sooner or later the Japs would put a mortar in the middle of our boat. There goes boat, ammo and three men. A command decision was necessary and imminent. I ordered the ramp up and told Humbach to back off. At least, we had unloaded the detonators. A soldier who had hauled more than his share of the ammo to the half-track and almost seemed to enjoy the challenge and the danger, came running toward 97
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our boat apparently intent on getting one last crate ashore. He stopped when he saw the ramp being raised, then dropped to his knees and fell face-down in the sand. We stared at the fallen man uncertainly. Part of our assignment was taking wounded back to the Charity. The bowhook shouted, Hes had it, sir. Im sure the bowhooks diagnosis was inuenced by concern for Number One. The soldiers head came up, looking toward the boat, then fell back to the sand. Back off, I yelled to Humbach, and we were underway before the ramp was secured. We traveled in silence back to the Tyler, none of us feeling too good about ourselves. That bit of the war will also stay with me for my duration. They didnt know as much then as they do now about the importance of the Golden Hour. Maybe the soldier had had it. If he were still alive, he would eventually receive plasma, if there was any left, and eventually hed be evacuated. But if wed gotten him to the Charity ? I didnt want to think about it. The bowhook was probably right.
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THE STADIMETER GAMBIT
he stadimeter is a navigational aid used on U.S. Navy ships to measure the distance between the observer and the observed. In order to nd the distance between the observers ship and another ship, the OOD enters the mast height of the other ship in his stadimeter, and this triangulating device will automatically give him the distance in nautical yards from the other ship. Navy ships traveling together exchange mast height data, among other things. Frequent stadimeter readings enable the OOD to keep his ship in station while underway, maintaining the proper distance between his ship and others in his group. If his ship begins to lag behind, or to narrow the distance between his ship and the one ahead, the OOD will direct the engine room personnel to adjust speed accordingly, increasing or decreasing the number of turns of the ships screws. Compass headings must be closely monitored as well. Keeping station is essential
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when cruising in dangerous waters. I was the OOD en route to an invasion when we were joined by several merchant ships, apparently heading to the same destination. They began to form a column immediately adjacent to ours, obviously wanting the protection of our destroyer escorts. Merchant ships rarely travel in company with ships of the U.S. Navy. Boda came up to the bridge just as the merchant group had completed forming its column with our transport squadron. In addition to my regular watch crew, consisting of a signalman, quartermaster and helmsman, Boda, Gatch the Exec, and Thompson the Navigator all came up to the bridge to see what was going on. Did you approve of this, Cooper? asked Boda. No, sir, they just appeared. Im sure he was hoping for a different answer, something that would give him justication to get on my case. Boda glared at the offending ships as though that might have some effect on them. I glanced at Gatch, whose expression registered concern, as he, too, squinted at the line of merchantmen that had by now become part of our formation. It was dusk and a mist hung over the sea. Knowing Gatch, his concerned expression was for the benet of the Captain. Secretly, Im sure he was enjoying the Captains dilemma. Captain Boda wanted all present to know that he was indignant over this
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intrusion of civilian ships, certainly less prestigious vessels than those of the U.S. Navy, into a battle formation, and here was a column steaming alongside of the Tyler. Merchant ships, especially slow ones like these, were very easy targets for Jap subs, and for that reason, if none other, Boda would prefer they were somewhere else. Boda announced that he was not going to stand for this. He should never have made such a declaration. Now that his indignation had opened Pandoras Box, he was at a complete loss as to how to close it. Boda needed a fall guy, fast. Who better than Cooper? For no good reason I came to his rescue. I assume, sir, that our Squadron Commander gave the approval. Conrm that! snapped Boda. How, sir? Id have to break radio silence, sir? Boda took a breath to snap back at me, but he had no answer. There was no answer. The ensuing silence was embarrassing to all of us. Again, I tried to come to the Captains rescue by changing the subject. The merchant ship to starboard is veering toward our column, sir. Ill ag him to keep his distance. This gave Boda a chance to go on the offensive again. How the fuck do you know hes veering? Is 101
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that an educated guess, Cooper? Or your magical powers of perception? No sir, their mast height. Boda studied the merchantmans mast. It doesnt tell me its closing. How the fuck do you know? I used the stadimeter, sir. You dont need to know the mast height just enter any gure and one can tell between readings whether the other ship is opening or closing. Boda looked at the Navigator, obviously seeking conrmation of both his authority and his superior seamanship. Cooper is right, sir, the Navigator said rmly. Another long embarrassing silence. I looked off toward the merchant ship to our port. Gatch found something of interest on the deck below. Only the signalman, the helmsman and the quartermaster dared view from a safe distance the egg on Captain Bodas face. Cooper, I want to know if those ships are authorized to be in this formation, Boda persisted. He thought that would get him off the bridge and out of this embarrassing mess with a shred of dignity. Suddenly, for some perverse reason, I could not leave well enough alone. I had once before interceded to help him save face, and he had foolishly not grasped the rescue line Id thrown. Now, with all 102
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due respect and observing all the rules of Navy etiquette and protocol, I went on the offensive. Im not sure exactly how to obey your order, sir. At this distance, I dont think we could contact the squadron commanders ship directly with ags or blinkers. If you would like, sir, I could try and relay a message up to the his ship. I could say, Request conrmation from commander re authorization of merchant ships in formation. Signed, Captain Joseph Boda, USS John Tyler, and then they could relay the answer from the commander back to us, sir. Maybe if the squadron commander had authorized those ships to join formation, and I believe he has, it might appear that youre questioning the commanders judgment, sir, but Ill get on that immediately, if thats your order, sir? Boda continued to glare at me menacingly. I b e l i e v e he was afraid to s ay more lest he exacerbate the situation and his humiliation. I continued to grind on, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Those merchant ships are probably heading toward the same destination we are, sir. And our troops will need those supplies, sir? I knew, of course, that while Captain Boda had crashed and burned in this brief encounter, mortified in front of officers and enlisted men, that I had neither seen nor heard the last of it. Gatch, to save me from myself, interjected that 103
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a safe distance would be maintained with the merchant ships. Boda continued to hold his eyes on me. I can still relay a message to the squadron commander, sir. If thats what youd like me to do, Ill get started before it gets dark. Boda did not even bother to say, Carry on. He turned and left the bridge. Those who could followed, wanting to distance themselves from the scene and me as quickly as possible. I moved over to Gatch at the rail, out of earshot of the crewmen. You got a death wish or something? said Gatch. I just had to rub his nose in it, the stupid fuck. That stupid fuck is judge, jury and executioner on this ship. You think hes just going to walk off with his tail between his legs? You are in deep shit, my friend. Hell, hes got me on every shit detail there is. There arent enough hours in the day for any more. So I get a bad tness report, whats that to me? If I get out of this fucking Navy alive, Im not worrying about a tness report. Gatch shook his head. The odds of you getting out alive have just been drastically reduced. Listen, Cooper, youre a stupid cunt with more balls than brains, and maybe thats why I like you, but when it comes to choosing up sides between you and the Navy, Im going with the big guy. Ive got a wife I want to go home to and make babies, and I might 104
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even stay in the Navy, so Im sure as hell not going to throw in with a sure loser. If you think for a minute that the brass is going to protect you, forget it. The Navy takes care of its own, the old guard, not 90 Day Wonders. Capisce? He nodded at me as though to make certain I understood, then left the bridge. I glanced at the helmsman, whose eyes were straight ahead on the sea and the ship ahead.
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ecember 22, 1943. Bodas order conning me to quarters was up a few days before Christmas so I was able to attend the Christmas party to be held in the wardroom. The Tyler was berthed in Noumea, in New Caledonia. Nearby, the hospital ship, USS Charity was anchored. She usually sailed with our group en route to invasions. Dr. Baron, our SMO, had attended medical school with the Chief Surgeon aboard the Charity and he invited the Surgeon and some nurses to celebrate Christmas with the ofcers of the Tyler. It was Boda who suggested we gussy up the wardroom and make it a party. Those who could eyed the Charitys Chief Surgeon and four nurses as they came aboard. The nurses were in uniform and their hairstyles were severe but they were, no question, women. The OOD gave a few explanatory remarks about the ship as he led the guests across the freshly-painted main deck to the wardroom where most of the ofcers had already gathered. 107
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American ingenuity and know-how had the wardroom looking very festive. The decorations included a small palm tree adorned with paper stars. To add to the holiday spirit, Boda was having appropriate music piped over the entire ship. Music from the Nutcracker Suite and Babes in Toyland engulfed the Tyler ad nauseam. Our SMO handled the introductions well, ticking us off one by one. The nurses fortunately had name tags sewn above their left pockets. The only one he gave special recognition to was our Exec, Gatch, who said jovially that he was here to maintain appropriate decorum. These ofcers, one or two of whom are gentlemen, have not seen a pretty face, outside of Ensign Carey, in six months, and they need supervision. And a cold shower, someone added. Already we were laughing and the party was underway. In the absence of Boda, Gatch was taking over as host. The punch is a secret recipe of the Tyler, he continued, but I can reveal that it contains isopropyl alcohol, stolen from sick bay, hydrogen peroxide, an assortment of liquors conscated from footlockers about the ship, a cup of torpedo juice, a spoonful of grapefruit juice and a sprinkle of sulfa powder. Youre all invited to enjoy, but please dont have any open ame nearby. More laughter. I was impressed. This was a 108
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new side of Gatch and he was pretty smooth at this new role. There was movement toward the punch bowl. Washington ladled me out a cup of punch, which tasted better than it sounded, and I moved to the side where I could watch the operators operate. Hix and Peacock were charming the prettiest of the four nurses, an auburn-haired beauty with a sylph-like gure named Peggy. Our eyes met and Peggy smiled. I lifted my glass in tribute. Im sure it was no coincidence that Captain Boda arrived at the party a little late. The nearest ofcer called out, Attention, when he entered the wardroom. The chatter and music stopped abruptly. Boda, wishing to appear just a regular feller at heart, said, Please, please. As you were. Enjoy yourselves. The music and the chatter resumed. Boda presented himself to the visiting Chief Surgeon, then turned his attention to the nurses, singling out Peggy Bryant for special consideration. I was certain Peggy would be invited to sit with the Captain and, after dinner, he would offer to give her a tour of the Tyler to include his cabin where if he didnt knock off a quickie it wouldnt be for lack of trying. I hadnt said two words to Peggy, but I was willing to bet Boda would strike out, Captain or no. Sure enough, Boda invited Peggy to sit with him 109
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and that was the signal that dinner was served. The ofcers put down their glasses and found seats. As one of the Tylers three division ofcers, I sat at the head table with Boda, Gatch and Peacock and the four nurses. Boda held Peggys chair, then sat beside her. When she was putting her napkin in her lap our eyes met again. The music, March of the Wooden Soldiers, droned on and Boda moved his head in rhythm to make certain everyone knew he had a keen appreciation of good music. Do you enjoy Victor Herbert? Boda asked Peggy. My parents used to take me to Radio City Music Hall to see the Rockettes dance to that. They were marvelous. It was a tactful, noncommittal answer. I feel its good for the men to be exposed to a little culture, said Boda. It should serve them well when theyre out of the service. Peggy agreed that it was very considerate of Captain Boda to take a personal interest in the welfare of his men. Steaming plates of ham, sweet potatoes and creamed onions were placed before us. Washington had moved from the punch bowl to his new station at the record player and was maintaining a steady outpouring of Victor Herbert and Sigmund Romberg from Captain Bodas cherished collection of 78 records, which also included Nelson Eddy and Janet 110
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McDonald singing Rose Marie. But tonight it was all music appropriate for the season. Mr. Cooper is our resident music authority, said Boda. He minored in music at Where was it, Mr. Cooper, Kansas? Illinois, sir. Mr. Cooper plays the piano. He tried to smuggle his baby grand aboard, but it wouldnt t under his mattress. T h e r e was some indulgent laughter, but obviously Boda would never make it in stand up. Boda continued his trenchant attack under the guise of humor. So Mr. Cooper switched to a bass ddle only to nd it wouldnt t in his sea bag. He has trouble with spacial relationships. When even the polite laughter ceased, Boda recognized that he was bombing as a comic and tried to win back his audience. Seriously, Mr. Cooper, of the two composers who do you prefer, Herbert or Romberg? Its just my personal opinion, sir, but I think theyre both dreck. Dreck? Whats that? According to Webster, sir, excrement, worthless trash. I saw Gatch drop his head in disbelief. Captain Boda put his fork down noisily. Well, a few million people, all over the world, 111
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disagree with you. I said it was just my personal opinion, sir. With a quick wave of his hand Boda ordered Washington to stop the music. It stopped with a scratching sound that would remain on the 78 forever. The dining at our table also stopped. Gatch jumped in to try to keep this from getting any worse. Thats one good thing about music, he said, Theres something for everyone. Im a Guy Lombardo man myself. A look from Boda told Gatch to stay out of this, and Boda turned his attention back to me. The lines were drawn. Conversation all over the wardroom stopped. A n d w h a t d o y o u c o n s i d e r g o o d m u s i c , Mr. Cooper? I like Mozart and I particularly like Beethovens Ninth Symphony, sir. Thats a bunch of He wanted to say crap but said, noise. A bunch of discordant caterwauling. I like music with a melody, something you can sing along with. Mozart and Beethoven have melody, sir. Its a bit more complicated but to the trained ear its there and its quite beautiful. Boda turned to Peggy. He wanted support from somewhere. Miss Bryant, wed welcome your opinion in this discussion. Were you enjoying the 112
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music I provided for the party? He had tilted the question in his favor. We all looked at Peggy, waiting for her answer. Im far from an authority, she apologized, but some music is background music, other you have to listen to, intently. Though I probably dont get as much out of it as Mr. Cooper, I enjoy listening to Beethoven. But I thought the music you provided tonight was very appropriate for the occasion. They say that music hath charms to sooth a savage breast, but Im not sure its doing it tonight. That relieved the tension some but Boda was hoping for more. Also, it seemed quite certain he was not going to get in Peggy Bryants pants tonight or any night. Youll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. He rose, beckoning Gatch to come along, which he did. Boda muttered Carry on as he left the wardroom followed by Gatch. Washington was at a loss about the record playing and, getting instructions from nowhere, decided to leave well enough alone. The ofcers resumed dining, but the party for all intents and purposes was over, thanks to me. Our SMO and I saw the guests to the accommodation ladder. Other ofcers, knowing they could be seen from the bridge, steered shy. Peggy came up to my side. Looks like youre in deep trouble, she whispered. She gave me a quick 113
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kiss on the cheek and shoved her address in my breast pocket. I hope youll let me know how youre doing. Thanks, I said. I will. I felt certain that Captain Boda was watching the whole scene from the bridge which only further complicated my worsening relationship with the Captain. Peggy and I exchanged a few letters but then we lost track of each other.
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ecember 24, 1944. We were still in New Caledonia awaiting a Marine group for our assault on the next island group, part of our drive to the Jap homeland. Though it was almost Christmas, the music that had been piped throughout the ship had stopped and the whole ship felt charged, Im sure as the aftermath of the disastrous Christmas party. I had been placed in charge of the paint-chipping detail for the ship, just one of the many shit details Id been assigned by Captain Boda these past months. But I knew I had yet to experience the full measure of Captain Bodas wrath for my behavior at the party. Gatch came down the ladder from the nav bridge and walked very determinedly toward me. I guessed he had come from a chat with Boda. Gatch wasted no time in getting down to the matter at hand. Cooper, youre to stand mid-watch commencing December 25th to January 25th. 115
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Thirty consecutive days, sir? Thirty-one, actually, professor. Sir, I dont think I can keep an alert watch
that many days in succession, in addition to my regular watches. Its a serious threat to the safety of the ship. You might mention that to the Captain. Im sure hell be delighted to get your advice. This was a new Gatch. There was nothing friendly about this meeting, such as the time he told me I would be J.A.G. He was obviously sick of saving my ass only to watch me get it back in a sling again. Carry on, Cooper. He started aft, then paused and turned, coming partway back to me. Incidentally, going to sleep on duty is a court-martial offense, particularly in a battle zone, a charge that could land you in Portsmouth for the better part of your life. He moved even closer and got in my face. Cooper, you are not only a stupid cunt, youre a fucking snob. I was the rst to blink. Gatch moved off. Captain Boda was obviously playing hardball. Hed catch me asleep on duty and that would be the end of me, no ifs ands or buts. My immediate concern, however, was Gatch calling me a snob. Perhaps I was. That really didnt bother me. I just didnt want Gatch thinking less of me. I felt there was an unspoken but acknowledged rap116
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port between us that I valued highly. Maybe Id destroyed that at the party. I was brought out of my musing by, Permission to come aboard, sir? I turned and saw a sailor, not part of our crew, standing at the top of the accommodation ladder. Permission granted, I said. We exchanged salutes and I studied the sailor as he approached. Enlisted men did not usually visit between ships. Sir. Im from the Curtis. Im Joe Boda, Jr... Captain Bodas son. I could see a slight resemblance. I got permission to come over here. I thought, it being Christmas and all, Id wish him a Merry Christmas. He assured me he wouldnt be long. I sent my quartermaster up to the Captains quarters with the message. Boda, Jr. shifted nervously from one foot to the other while we waited for the quartermasters return. At length, I asked, Has it been a while since you last saw Captain Boda? Yes, sir, a long time. Im sure hell be pleased to see you again. Maybe. We looked off expectantly as the messenger came down the ladder. He walked up to us and said, Sir, the Captain said, no. 117
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What do you mean, no? I asked. The Captain dont want to see him, sir. Did you say it was his son? I said there was a Joe Boda, Jr., Seaman First,
here to see him, sir. Boda, Jr. offered that it was no big deal. The Captain was probably busy, but I was certain there had been some breakdown in communication. Just exactly what did Captain Boda say? He said, No. I dont want ta see im. We both looked at young Boda. I knew it was a long shot, he said. Thank you very much, sir. Ill head back to my ship. Merry Christmas. He saluted, turned and crossed to the accommodation ladder and disappeared over the side. I wanted to share the incident with Gatch, but he might very well say he wasnt interested in ships gossip.
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eing assigned midwatch for 31 consecutive days did not let me escape regular duty assignments and while we were berthed at Pearl Harbor, I was summoned to Gatchs quarters. I found him at his desk writing what appeared to be a long letter. He turned the pages over when I approached, swiveled his armchair and leaned back. Well, barrister, you have the honor of being OOD every day were in Pearl. Not only that, you get a double shift, 1600 to 0000 hours. I knew Gatch wouldnt do this to me, it had to be Captain Boda. Boda wanted to make sure I was on deck to see all the ofcers and men go ashore, and still be there when they came aboard, some drunk and boisterous, some with their tall tales of conquest. Im sure eighty percent bought it if they got any at all. Some would wander from shop to shop, buying junk, then drink enough so they could whistle at passing wahines. Some would tire early of aimless wandering and return to the security of 119
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the ship with their purchases hours before their passes were up. Theyd done the town. Arent you going ashore, sir? I asked. Maybe tomorrow, Gatch said. I want to get some of those pink coral earrings. Helen looks good in pink. But I want to get this in the mail. Mail goes out daily from here. There was somewhat of a plaintive tone in his voice. Subtle, but there. I had the feeling Gatch would like to talk things over with someone, but it certainly wouldnt be a lowly Junior Grade (yes, I got upped a half-stripe) and it was presumptuous of me to even entertain the thought. It was only thanks to my months in service that I had been promoted to Lt. (JG). It was certainly not the result of a recommendation from Captain Boda. Gatch would always lend an ear to everyone elses troubles, but he kept his own counsel. Part of the Execs image was to have everything under control, including domestic matters. A black and white photograph of his wife, Helen, occupied the far right corner of his desk. Her blonde hair was back-lit, giving a halo effect. She was pretty very pretty. Doubletake pretty. Id heard guys say they wouldnt want a really gorgeous wife. Theyd worry they couldnt keep her by the hearth. I never gave it much thought. Good night, sir. 120
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Night, cunt. I went on deck. It was 1700 hours when a young Ensign, obviously freshly-minted, asked for permission to come aboard. I granted permission and when the baby-faced Ensign approached me, he handed me his card, Leslie S. Templewood III. I read it aloud. Quite a mouthful, isnt it? he said. Whats the S for? Smigly, he replied, no E. I shook my head and welcomed him aboard. Arent you going to present my card to the Captain, sir? he asked. Ill get word to the Captain that youve come aboard, Les, but dont go looking for trouble, itll nd you soon enough. It crossed my mind that Templewood was a likely candidate to take the heat off me, but I couldnt do that to someone named Leslie S. Templewood III, someone who had a voice a couple of octaves higher than standard, and who seemed a little light on his feet. Whered you go to school, Les? Princeton, sir. Keep that to yourself. Yes, sir. Why is that, sir... about Princeton? Captain Boda likes Ivy Leaguers for breakfast. Yes, sir. Mays, show Mr. Templewood to his quarters. The seaman picked up Templewoods bag and 121
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led the way. I called after the Ensign. Les, pick up the... Sir? Nothing. Templewood would anyway. In a few minutes Id changed from the neophyte to the hoary old sea dog, protecting the new young pup, giving him sage advice on survival aboard the Tyler. I knew now that I could take care of myself, but Templewood looked particularly vulnerable.
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y older brother, Bill, was circling the backyard on a sparkling new blue bike to the delight of my parents. It was his Christmas present. It had New Departure coaster brakes and red and white leather streamers uttering from the handlebars. I followed him in these circles on a scooter made of an orange crate nailed to a 2x4 with metal roller skate wheels beneath. It was difcult to keep up with Bill because the small skate wheels dragged in the dirt. Our parents stood on the porch watching. Bill would pass me easily, literally riding circles around me. I fell over, the scooter and I coming down in a heap. I was furious. Why cant I have a bike like Bill? I whined up at my parents. Because Bill needs it for his paper route, was the answer. Ill get a paper route, too! I shouted. Maybe next year, said my mother, soothingly. Well see. Mr. Cooper... Mr. Cooper! 123
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I woke with a start and realized it was Templewood who was addressing me. It took a second to get my bearings. Id been asleep standing up, dreaming. Now I was on the starboard wing of the nav bridge. The hulk of the ship directly ahead loomed up. To make sure we were maintaining station I trained my stadimeter on the hulk ahead. I looked toward the dimly lit wheel house. There was the helmsman and the two other sailors on watch with me staring straight ahead. All seemed to be in order. I checked my watch with the radium hands and numbers, 0210 hours. Id been asleep out here for nine minutes. This was my nineteenth consecutive midwatch and fatigue was overtaking me, deepseated, bone-tired fatigue, exactly what Boda hoped for. I had made the 0200 hour entry in the night order book and had come out on the starboard wing hoping the breeze would waken and refresh me. There was a breeze, but at 86 degrees, coupled with the steady rolling of the ship, I had literally been rocked to sleep on my feet. My heart began to pound. If it had been Boda who had wakened me it would have meant a court martial and Portsmouth. The quartermaster came out to the wing. Engine room is requesting permission to blow stacks, sir. I walked into the wheel house and spoke into the voice tube, Permission granted. Engine room, aye, came from the depths. 124
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I looked at the night order book again. At 0230 hours, Change course to 270. I said to the helmsman, Stand by your helm. Then, at the precise chronometer time, Change course to 270. Changing course to 270, sir, came the response and the Tyler was now headed directly toward Ulithi, a lagoon where we were to rendezvous for the invasion at Guam. Thank God it was you, Les, I said as I returned to the wing where Templewood was waiting. When I was on watch in the wheel house Id instructed the quartermaster, Dowey, to poke me if he saw me nodding. I cant remember the other guys names. Dowey never did poke me, but hed wake me with some stupid question like, Sir, do you think well ever put in to Pearl again? Coming out of a sleep, it would take a moment to process questions. I dont know, Dowey. Next time Nimitz calls, Ill ask him. Dowey wasnt offended by my sarcasm. We both knew what we were doing. Templewood and I stared down at the main deck, which was strewn with the bodies of Marines. It was too hot to sleep below so theyd come up to the weather decks to nd a space to ake out. There was hardly a foot of deck that wasnt covered with Marines. Im not sure it was just the heat that kept me 125
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awake, said Templewood. I knew what he was getting at, but I thought Id let him set his own pace. Its amazing those guys can sleep at all when theres a landing in eight days. I didnt respond. It would come. H o w many invasions have you been in, Mr. Cooper? Three. H o w was the first one? Do you get used to them? Youll do ne, Les. Youve got a good coxswain. Just get in there, get em off pronto and then get the hell out of there. Im just not too sure how Ill act under re, said Templewood. I wouldnt want to freeze or come unglued or anything. You wont. Everybody worries about it the rst time, but somehow they bring it off. Its never easy, but it gets easier. When I was in junior high, said Templewood, my dad and I were in a little automobile accident and I started crying. He shouted at me, Stop your damned blubbering! Its a dented fender, thats all. So I kind of wonder... Templewood told me that his mother wanted him to go into Air Force administration and she could have arranged it because she knew Hap Arnolds 126
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wife. But his dad had insisted there be no strings. Templewood would take his chances like everybody else, and Templewood applied for Midshipmans School. So here I am, an ofcer and a gentleman in 90 days, ta-da! It was good talking to Templewood. He was a bright, well-educated guy with a great sense of humor. He was also keeping me awake. I appreciated that. Templewood got me laughing telling me about a guy in their room in Midshipmans S ch o o l who always stalled around at night pretending to be studying until it was lights out. But actually the reason he was stalling was because he didnt want to take his clothes off in front of the other guys. So this one night they rigged it so everyone held a ashlight and when this character was taking off his shorts the other four guys shined their ashlights on him and started singing Night Train, the song the strippers strip to. It felt good to laugh again. But all this was leading up to something. Templewood and I stared down at the sleeping Marines for several minutes before he broke the silence. Can I ask you something? Am I going to ship over when this is over? The answer is no. No, Im not. Templewood gave me a courtesy laugh and then 127
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really got my attention. Does anybody on board think Im queer? Nobodys ever said anything. Are you? I dont think so. I like girls. But you know, Im not very beefy and my voice is an octave higher than most guys. Ive worked on it. I even sat at a piano and kept trying to lower my voice along with the bass clef. But then I forget about it, and it goes right back up again. Forget it, I reassured him. Everybody likes you. I wouldnt even think about it, Les. Weve got all shapes and sizes on this crazy ship. And listen, sometimes its the guys with hair on their shoulders you gotta worry about. I like girls, said Templewood. I slept with one once. Well, I didnt actually sleep with her, but we got it on. Leslie laughed at himself at the recollection. It was a disaster. Yeah, like what? I was naturally curious, with Templewood in particular. My folks had a place in the Hamptons. Wed go there in the summer, and there was a girl there named Emily Klingerman who summered up there also. She called me this day, out of the blue, and asked me if I wanted to come over and go swimming in her pool. Sure, why not? It was hot and muggy. When I got there, I noticed her folks werent 128
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home, so okay, thats fine. She said I could change upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Big house. Well, Im just about to pull on my trunks when in walks Emily, naked as a jaybird. You talk about a brick shithouse, God was she built. She smiled and came up to me and put her arms around my neck and we fell down on the bed and thats all she wrote. It was over before I got started. She got up and said, Thanks for nothing, Leslie Templewood. She was pissed, royally. It happens. Some guys beat it off rst so theyll have some control on a date. Well, certainly not an ofcer and a gentleman, said Templewood with feigned indignation. We both laughed at that. Laughed hard. Ten hut! my signalman shouted. Templewood and I almost went overboard. Boda had come up on little cat feet, obviously with the intent of catching me asleep. Templewood, what the fuck are you doing up here? I couldnt sleep, sir. Then you might better spend your time preparing yourself for duty as an OOD instead of distracting Cooper. Yes, sir. Templewood hurriedly left the bridge. I could see him below stepping over sleeping Marines. 129
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A n d C o o p e r, a s O O D, y o u b e l o n g i n t h e wheel house, or didnt they explain that at Midshipmans School? Boda was muttering about having a ship of assholes and fools, and then he barked, Cooper, sound General Quarters. I was just entering the wheel house when Boda gave that order. I couldnt believe what I was hearing, nor could the crewmen in the wheel house. Sir, theyll be trampling all over those Marines on deck. Goddamnit, Cooper, I dont need your assessment of the situation. I gave you an order! Im sure Boda felt a certain frustration at not catching me asleep and had to come up with some justication for prowling around the ship at this hour, so he called for General Quarters. The bosns whistle and the Captains order blasted all over the ship. Now hear this! All hands man your battle stations! Again, All hands man your battle stations! The ships company and the Marines had no way of knowing if we were in harms way or whether it was Boda at his worst. But it was prudent to get to their stations as rapidly as possible. Sailors, running to their stations, tripped over Marines in the dark. The inevitable ghts took place. Chaos ensued. 130
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Itll get em combat ready, said Boda as he headed below toward his quarters. I could hear his cackle even above the sounds of ghting below. Two nights later, returning to my room after my watch, I was accosted in the passageway by Brazil, the ships carpenter, a known troublemaker. His breath was putrid in addition to the garlic and torpedo juice. He said if Id have all on the watch with me move to the port side of the ship tomorrow at 0100 hours, there wouldnt be any more trouble. He was telling me obliquely that there was a plot among some of the men to pitch the Captain overboard at that hour. Drunk as he was, Brazils words had been couched carefully enough to keep him out of Portsmouth and as much as I would like to have seen the end of Boda, I was not going to be a party to killing him. I told Brazil to get lost or Id have him before Captains Mast for being drunk and disorderly aboard ship. Dont stand too near the rail, sir. It can be dangerous, said Brazil. Several sailors had disappeared at sea unaccountably and without investigation.
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emplewood always called me Sir or Mr Cooper, regardless of my telling him not to. But the truth was I felt like his father, or at least his older brother... he needed somebody why not me? to watch over him, to make sure he was kept out of harms way. A typhoon was raging some miles away, but the waves were still mountainous around us when Boda called for a meeting in the wardroom. We all looked at each other when Boda announced there would be practice landings, in preparation for the next invasion. In this sea, sir? asked one of the ofcers. In measured tones, Boda replied, Yes. Any other questions? then left as the Logistics Ofcer briefed us, accompanied by a chorus of fuck yous and asshole. I looked at Gatch. Whyinhell hadnt he spoken up? If we carried out Bodas orders some of us would be killed in this pointless landing exercise maybe all of us, trying to land with a 15 133
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to 20-foot surf hitting the beach. Practice? What for? Most of us had been in several invasions. We all knew how to handle our Higgins Boats by now. Obviously, the sonofabitch wanted to show the new ofcers who was calling the shots around here. I had the unpleasant job of telling my boat crews about the practice landings. I could read their minds whyinhell hadnt I said something to the Captain? Well, why hadnt I? Why didnt somebody like Gatch object? The truth was Boda would have his way, no matter what questions, or worse, objections, were raised. There were going to be practice landings that was an order. The day of the landings... Gatch came up to me just before the Away all boats order was given over the PA system. What do you think youre doing? he asked with a slow smile. Youre not going to land boats in this surf are you? Only a stupid cunt would do that. Gatch continued, I dont think youre that stupid. Gatch told me he was going to delay the Away all boats order obviously to give me time to tell my boat crews not to land, in whatever fashion I chose. In the few minutes before the PA announcement, I called out to the assembled ofcers, coxswains and bowhooks, raising my voice above the wind. Landing practice today will consist of approaching the beach. Do I make myself clear approaching 134
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the beach! I could see the look of relief on most of the faces of the ofcers and crews of the landing craft. Is there anyone who does not completely understand my orders? I studied the group. Was I getting through to everyone? I hoped so. I looked at Templewood. He seemed frozen. I couldnt tell if he was comprehending or not. Away all boats! came the order. Ofcers and men broke for their stations. There was no time to talk with Templewood. All of the boats were now in a heavy sea pitching wildly as we headed toward the beach. The shore was within sight now the surf running in sets of angry, deadly 18-to-20-foot breakers. The tide was owing, adding to the certainty that any boat attempting to land would broach and capsize, coming down on the boats occupants who would die from injuries or from drowning. I signaled all boats to stand off the beach we were out of sight of the Tyler and circle, taking enough time so that Boda would think that the practice landings had in fact taken place, as he had commanded. But one boat was not circling it was heading into the beach. It was Templewoods boat. I shouted and signaled frantically. Ill never know if he saw my signals or heard me. His boat vanished in a trough, then appeared on the crest of a breaker banging into the beach, then broaching parallel to the beach. 135
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The next breaker hit the boat broadside, turning it over, bottom-side-up. I watched helplessly as Templewoods boat continued to be buffeted by breaker after breaker. Nobody could be seen in the surf. Templewood and his two crew members were all trapped under the boat. If they were still alive, their bodies were being cruelly mangled by each set of waves. I only hoped that they were drowned, sparing them from more pain. Templewood, the dumb bastard, was trying to prove his manliness. Or was he too green to read between the lines of my order? This was his chance to show Boda, his dad and himself how brave he was. I signaled the boats to head back to the ship. All the way back, I kept thinking, what could I have done to prevent these needless, insane deaths? What did the deaths of Templewood and his crew have to do with winning the war? I knew, as did Gatch, that the command would be carried out regardless of what either of us had to say or question. There it was only one conclusion that sonofabitch Boda had caused the deaths of three good men in a foolish assault on an empty, undefended beach. When I got back to the ship Gatch was standing near the debarkation net as I came up. Wheres the other boat Templewoods? Gatch asked. You didnt try to rescue or salvage? Gatch continued. It would have meant more lives lost, sir, 136
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I replied, describing the surf conditions at the beach. Gatch said nothing, then turned away. The word spread rapidly throughout the ships crew giving the ofcers and enlisted men one more reason to hate Boda, as if more were needed. Whenever Boda appeared on deck you could feel the smoldering hatred coming from the men near him. Surely Boda himself could sense it. How could he not? How could I get back at the sonofabitch? It wasnt so much revenge, although there was enough of that it was the sick bastards behavior that was endangering the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands. Like the time he made me stand watch 31 consecutive midwatches. It was pure luck that I had been able to avoid colliding with another ship in our transport squadron during my groggy state. But it was the deaths of Templewood and his crew that were uppermost in my mind. I determined to ask for an investigation, directing my report to CincPac in Pearl Harbor. I looked up Navy Regs, or Rocks and Shoals. What could be done about an unreasonable command of a senior o f f i c e r, o r t h e C a p t a i n o f a N a v a l v e s s e l ? A command that needlessly put the lives of others in jeopardy? A command given without just cause that resulted in the death or injury of those under his command? I typed up the details of the deaths of Templewood and his crew and showed it to Gatch. 137
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Are you nuts, Cooper? Gatch asked. Youll never get this past Boda. I dont intend to submit it through him Im sending it directly to CincPac in Pearl, I replied. Gatch said, Youll never get anywhere with this trust me. Boda will deny everything because Pearl is bound to ask him to comment on your report. And that will be the end of it. Read your Regs again. W h a t d o es it say about redressing wrongs committed by a superior? It says the complaint must be submitted through the chain of command. In other words, youre screwed. Youve been in the Navy long enough to know that the brass will always decide any question like this in favor of the ships Captain the lord and master. All youll get out of this is a notch higher on Bodas shit list. So, hold off submitting your report til you get Stateside, until youre out of the sonofabitchs clutches. Gatch added that some reassignment orders had just come in chances were mine was one of them. Youll still not get anywhere with your report, but at least Boda wont be able to get at you. Templewoods body was found a couple of hundred yards from the beach. His kapok life jacket had kept him aoat, but he had probably been knocked unconscious when the boat capsized. In those heavy seas, in that state, Templewood could have taken in a lot of water. The bodies of his two 138
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crewmen were never recovered and we guessed they were trapped beneath the hull which eventually sank. Boda would not allow any recovery efforts. He said his responsibility was to the ship and the crew and we had to expect a certain number of casualties in war. No one said, to his face, that those three lives were literally wasted. We were underway and cruising at 20 knots, ank speed for the Tyler, the morning Templewoods body was consigned to the sea. To add to the somber occasion, the morning was overcast. The clouds hung so low a mist covered the ship. Two sailors gripped one end of the board that held Templewoods body. It was not a ag-draped cofn, or even ag-draped. The body was just wrapped with sailcloth, a lead weight at his head. With the two sailors, I was the third live person present. It had nothing to do with duty, or assignment. I felt close to Templewood and wanted to be there. Shouldnt someone say something? I asked. The sailor closest to me said, Say goodbye. I s u r e wasnt going to be the one to say, Well, what are we waiting for? Go ahead, dump him. So I just stood there. Gatch appeared almost at the same time as the ships chaplain, who read a few lines from the Bible. I remember hearing the word soul, but not much else. 139
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He closed the book and departed. That apparently was the signal for the sailors to do their duty. They tilted the board and Templewood dropped into the gray South Pacic. At 20 knots, he was soon far behind. Good man, said Gatch. We hadnt talked much since the Christmas party, but he didnt seem in a hurry to be on his way. Though not for all of them, Gatch frequently assumed the responsibility of writing to the parents or wives of crew members killed or missing in action. The fact that Gatch was here made me think that he would be the one writing the letter to Templewoods parents. The fact that he was still here made me think that maybe our relationship was no longer strained. It would be nice if someone could embellish the circumstances a little when his parents are notied. Whats to embellish? said Gatch. Didnt Templewood single-handedly save this ship from certain destruction when he extinguished the re in the magazine, only to be killed saving the life of a wounded comrade? I wouldnt want to distort the facts. Thanks, I said. Gatch gave my shoulder a pat as he moved off and I knew the breach between us had been mended.
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he Tyler put into San Francisco in midDecember. The ships personnel had already begun replacing the aging 50 caliber machine guns with brand-new Swiss Oerlikon 20 mm and 40 mm Swedish BoFors guns. I spent Christmas aboard the Tyler with Gatch. His wife had told him she couldnt come down from Seattle to meet him, citing civilian travel restrictions, but Im sure Gatch felt there were other reasons. I debated whether to ask him if everything was alright at home, but decided against it. If he wanted to talk, he would. Gatch could have gone ashore, of course, but he elected to stay with me. Denitely above and beyond. Two other ofcers, Morgan and Hix, who had served aboard the Tyler the same length of time as I, and had been in the same engagements, had received their transfers, and though they had no idea what the future offered, they were glad to be off the Tyler. Both were being transferred to the 141
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Navy base at Boca Raton where they would enjoy so-called R & R while awaiting new assignments. I say so-called because they were Navy bases with a ping pong table, but everything else was by the numbers, with dress codes and strictly enforced. It was 1500 hours and four of us were having a farewell cup of coffee in the wardroom, Gatch and I and the two departing ofcers, Morgan and Hix. Bodas treatment of these two ofcers had been what one could expect on a taut ship, but nothing like mine. Still, they were eager for their new assignments. When Gatch offered to nd some medicinal rum for the coffee, Morgan and Hix declined. Theyd celebrate ashore. Stewards Mate Washington brought in another steaming pot of coffee, but we all waved it off. Nevertheless, he left the pot at our disposal as he emptied ashtrays and collected used cups. Hix and Morgan were in their dress blues, a rare sight these past three years. They started shrugging into their bridge coats and let their white scarves drape around their necks. Morgan extended his hand to me. Weve put in the same time, gone through the same crap, Coop, so your orders should be coming through any day. They got snafued somewhere. Theyll come, added Hix. Shit, I said, Were pulling out of here next week. 142
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Are the new guns aboard? Look okay, said Hix. Goddamn Swiss and Swedes know how to make a buck, dont they? You know theyre selling the same guns, the same Oerlikons and the same BoFors to the fucking Krauts. We shook hands all around, wished each other luck. Hix said, If there were any justice, I d b e t he one staying aboard and youd be transferred. Take care of yourself. Gatch and I followed them outside to the quarterdeck, where they saluted the OOD and the Ensign and went down the accommodation ladder. Gatch and I leaned on the rail and watched them till they were out of sight. I wondered whether Boda was also watching the scene from above. Probably, but I wasnt going to look up there. I would now have the duty of three ofcers until replacements arrived for Morgan and Hix. I had another hour before relieving the OOD. I returned to my quarters and tried to get off a letter to Alberta. My attempts at a romantic letter were thwarted by my anger and acerbic wads of failed attempts cluttered the corner of my room. There was a light knock on the wall outside my room. I glanced at my watch. It was only a 1100 hours; I was not due for midwatch yet. Nevertheless, Id had a panicky feeling for a moment that I was 143
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supposed to be on duty somewhere. Come in. The curtain parted opened and Washington stood there, the same Washington who had saved my life some months ago, literally pulling me up the debarkation net after the Tarawa battle. There had always been this bond between us, but it had never been spoken aloud. Yes? I said. Mr. Cooper, can I come in? Sure. Is anything wrong? Well, sir. He stepped in and pulled the curtain. I thought long and hard bout coming here, cause I dont want to get my ass in no sling. My mind was racing through all the possibilities that might have brought the Stewards Mate here and could come up with nothing. Go ahead and talk, Washington. Youve got nothing to worry about. You know the yeoman, Curtis? Yes, go ahead. He said it wasnt none of his never mind, and he wasnt gonna stick his neck out and Id better keep him out of it. You can tell Curtis not to worry. I got up from my chair and approached Washington, then put my hand on his shoulder, reaching up to this towering gure. You know, you never let me thank you for what you did that day, 144
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saving my life, as Im sure you know. Washington let the remark pass, still refusing to acknowledge he had saved a white ofcers life. At this, Washington relaxed, the tension in his demeanor having disappeared. Now, the war, the Navy crap, the shipboard regulations, were behind us. In this room, we were two good friends, Washington and I. And Washington was going to share a secret with me, coming to my aid again. Curtis told me your transfer papers has been with the Captain moren a week. They came with the orders of the other two ofcers. Anybody else know about this, besides you and Curtis? Washington shook his head. I grabbed his huge, ham-like hand, mine vanishing in his. I want you to know how much I value your friendship, Washington. He smiled and said, Okay, sir, then left the room. Gatch was asleep when I knocked lightly on his door and let myself in, closing it behind me. I stood there in the dark. Commander. Its me. Cooper. What? he said sleepily. Are you awake enough to understand me? Yeah. What? Boda is holding up my orders. Theyve been here over a week. 145
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I heard rustling of the bed covers and the light went on. Gatch rested his head on his hand and stared at me. How do you know that? Dont ask me, sir. I just know. You alright? Youre not...? Hallucinating? Yeah, something like that. No, just accept it as fact and tell me what to do about it. If I ship out on this tub again, hell get me one way or another. Whatll I do? Maybe your orders are in, maybe theyre not, but if they are in, Boda cant sit on them long. Hes being transferred. He is? Where? Who knows? They rotate personnel, even Captains... but hell have to clear his desk before turning over command. If your orders are in, hell have to act on them. I slumped into the extra chair. Who all knows about this? Boda and I, said Gatch. Id take over if Boda left before his replacement got here. If word got around Boda was leaving, thered be a Boston Tea Party on this tub. There really is such a thing as a sigh of relief, and I sighed it. I put my head in my hands. Looks like you dodged the bullet again, cunt.
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hile we were moored at Treasure Island in San Francisco, Bodas yeoman, Curtis, handed me my transfer paper with a knowing look. I quickly unfolded the sheet and took in the essentials: I was being detailed to the Newport, Rhode Island Naval Base for R&R. I guess the word was out because Stewards Mate Washington came to my room he wanted to carry my Val-Pak to the quarterdeck for me. Gatch was standing there with the OOD. Good to have served with you, sir, I said to Gatch, who replied gruffly, So long, you s t u p i d c unt. By the way, try to remember to stop being such a snob. Maybe youll get out of this war alive. I took one last look up at the nav bridge; there Boda stood in the familiar pose, leaning on the rail, looking down at me as he had three years ago only this time, it was not with a glare, but sphinx-like, impassively. I took the Northern Pacic train to New York, then transferred to the Penn Patriot to Newport. 147
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Opposite me on the Patriot coach sat a Marine First Lieutenant with crutches and a missing left foot. When he rst boarded in New York and sat opposite me, I was determined not to be caught looking where his foot had been. Not an easy task. He was going to Newport, which was his home. The Marine put me at ease by offering, Thats your million-dollar wound close-up and personal. I smiled, not knowing how to reply. Ever heard of a guy with one foot getting in the nals at Wimbledon? I might some day. The door to the coach opened. We had arrived at the Newport station. The open door let in a blast of cold air. After three years in the tropics I had almost forgotten what December could be. Without asking I picked up the Marines canvas bag, along with my Val-Pak, and moved to the vestibule. I paused and said, You okay? Im ne, he answered. Thats my group over there. I glanced off and saw four people waving, and read between the lines that the situation was bad enough, and he did not want his family and possibly his ance seeing him helped down the train steps and the stool the conductor had placed at the exit. Nevertheless, I moved slowly and cautiously ahead of him. If he did slip, hed fall on me. By the time we safely negotiated the steps and 148
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the stool, the Marines family had moved toward us. He embraced the girl in the fur coat and then, presumably, his mother. Little sister seemed embarrassed, but smiled bravely. I put his bag down and it was immediately picked up by the man in the hat and dark overcoat. Did that forestall an embrace? The Marine thanked me with a glance and a nod and I continued on toward the one-story building. The girl was a tall brunette. Maybe theyd met on the tennis court. If she was his wife, thats the way the cookie crumbles. If she was his ance, would they be having a talk in three months? Would she be saying, Of course not, darling, it has nothing to do with your foot. Its not you at all. Its me. I just have to nd my space. I wondered about Alberta. What would her position be if I came home minus a foot? So far, not my problem. In the dim light of the warm waiting room I took another look at my orders. A military bus would meet me at 2015 hours, then transport me to the Newport Naval Base. I checked my watch. Thirtyve minutes. There were two large posters on the wall: one red on yellow, shouted: Stamp Out V.D.! The second had an illustration of Uncle Sam with his forenger touching his mouth. The caption announced that Loose Lips Sink Ships. Way to go, Uncle. Im with you. A sailor exited the phone booth, but I decided I wouldnt call 149
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Alberta until I had plenty of change and was settled in. There would be at least thirty days at the base. Plenty of time to call. Plenty of time to think of the right thing to say. Something a little witty, a little charming. Something that was anything but what I felt. Besides, I looked beat. I was reading a travelers leftover copy of the Saturday Evening Post, complete with a Norman Rockwell cover, when a sailor in a pea coat came up and, with a casual salute, asked me if I was going to the Naval Base. I said I was and put aside the magazine. The sailor grabbed my Val-Pak and I followed him outside. The wind had picked up and now seemed to come from all directions. The sailor had broken into a jog as he headed for the bus, about 50 yards away. I started to clutch my coat lapels together and hurry after him. Then I realized how ridiculous that was. Id been in six landings with assault troops dropping like ies in a Flit storm. I sure as hell wasnt going to hunker down against a few snowakes. My neck felt a little cold, but I crossed the street to the waiting bus walking erect, at a pace that I felt was appropriate. T h e s a i l o r w h o h a d t a k e n m y Va l - P a k was also the driver. Already, he was seated behind the wheel, waiting for me. I heard someone call, Close the fucking door, but the sailor waited until
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I was aboard before he did so. There were six or seven Navy ofcers on the bus who had come from the Newport airport. There was no noticeable feeling of camaraderie. They sat separately, some dozed or tried to. Others stared straight ahead, not even favoring me with a glance. They were men who needed rest then maybe they could think about recreation. I wondered if I looked as bad as they. Dropping into a seat by myself I looked out the window. Actually, I was studying my reection. I looked gaunt. When the bus started moving the pale overhead lights went off and I disappeared. Good. It might be in my best interests if I waited a few days before seeing Alberta. At the base we reported to the duty ofcer and I was assigned a room in BOQ (Bachelor Ofcer Quarters). The room was mine alone. Fine with me; I really didnt feel like being pleasant. I had been in the Pacic for about 30 months. It was time, somebody in Bu Pers decided, to give me some rest and recreation between duty assignments. The best and most appropriate place, of course, would be Newport, Rhode Island in January. I was to be at the base for about a month, while Washington decided where I would go next. There was a ping-pong table in the recreation hall which happened to be placed in the middle of a 151
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basketball court, effectively discouraging concurrent use. A TV in the library was on day and night the bookcase was lled with many copies of Zane Grays Riders of the Purple Sage, a like number of Edgar Rice Burroughs Tarzan of the Apes and other intellectually challenging writings. I was required to attend refresher classes of those I had taken at Midshipmans School several years ago taught by instructors who were just as bored teaching the material as we ofcers were being taught. Newport, the playground for the rich and famous, had closed down for the winter, so there was nothing going on in town. While in those classes I was rehearsing some possible dialogue with Alberta when I called. I even found, like a schoolboy, I had written her name on a corner of the page. When class broke, I took a couple of deep breaths and headed for a bank of phones near the rec room. Id call her. Casual, but denitely interested. Though Alberta struck me as a pretty straightforward person who would probably see through my tactics. Such thoughts were on my mind when I realized someone was calling at me, Hey, are you going to salute me or not? I turned around and realized Id walked past a three-striper, a Commander who thought that kind of crap won wars. Little did I know how seriously he took the crap. I ipped him 152
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a salute that didnt touch my cap more like a Hiya and continued on. Mister! he shouted. I sensed trouble and stopped and turned. Whats your name and where are you billeted? He was already digging a little pad out of his pocket, and he wrote down the information. He ipped the cover shut like a job well done and moved on. That incident took a little wind out of my sails when I called Alberta, but it didnt matter. Those conversations never unfold the way you plan them anyway. Alberta seemed really pleased to hear from me and soon we were talking free and easy. She suggested that we meet in Washington. Could I get away? Of course I could. No problem. The time and place was set. The war in the Pacic was far, far away. So was the fucking Navy. I was giddy with excitement. The following day, there was a note on the door to my room, You are conned to the base until further notice this due to a complaint led against you by Commander Lawry Signed, Captain Frey, USN, Base Commander. So, Lawry was that bastards name. Well, screw Lawry screw the Base Commander I was going AWOL. I wasnt going to miss this chance to see Alberta.
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hen I stepped off the train in Washington I searched the faces of the people on the platform. The inevitable Shore Patrol, with their white putties and white helmets, stood out in the crowd. There were reunions everywhere. I saw Alberta before she saw me. She looked beautiful in a pale blue overcoat with fur collar and a hat that came close to matching her coat. It produced an exhilarating feeling knowing this pretty girl, searching the array, was looking for me. Our eyes met and a smile that would melt snow lit up her face. I angled through the host of civilians and military and we embraced. We looked at each other, kissed and embraced again. It all felt so natural, so right. I was in a zone where there was no Boda, no Shore Patrol, no Navy, no war. There was just Alberta and me. In the taxi I held Albertas gloved hand as we sat close together. What do you want to do? she asked. Be with you. 155
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She squeezed my hand. I asked her if she wanted to see Blood and Sand, the movie. She admitted Tyrone Power was cute but she preferred me. We cant sit in the park, I said. May I make a suggestion? Of course, I want you to. Why dont you take your things up to your room... She stopped as though Id perhaps forgotten something. Dont you have a bag or anything? Im traveling light. She didnt question that further and said she wanted to change. I got a cocktail dress I hope youll like. Ill change and meet you in the Copa de Oro Room. They have a tea dance there till seven. A tea dance? The concierge said its not as bad as it sounds. The music is nice, Kern and Berlin and that kind of thing, and you can get anything you want to drink, not just tea. Does that sound okay? She was being careful not to take charge. Sure. Do they really have little cucumber sandwiches? I dont know, said Alberta, but well nd out. She put her head on my shoulder and snuggled closer. Im so glad to see you, Lee. Im glad youre alright. I worried about you. We rode in silence for a minute and then she said, Are we having a rendezvous? 156
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Pretty close. It might be a tryst. Im not sure. I told Mother I was going to see an old friend. Three years... that should qualify you as an old friend, shouldnt it? More than that, I hope. As I was paying the driver at the Mayower, two Shore Patrol emerged, hesitated, seemingly without a destination, then moved off. I had instinctively turned away before realizing SPs dont pick up ofcers. When I glanced at Alberta, her ready smile erased the look of concern from her face and we went inside. An hour later Alberta and I were in the Copa de Oro Room. I had a scotch and water before me and she was sipping a Shirley Temple. A waiter who expertly handled a large fork and spoon in his white gloved hand, placed small crustless sandwiches on our plates, and yes, there were cucumber sandwiches, and deviled egg sandwiches, and maybe olive. It was my second scotch and the tension was slowly easing from my body. Alberta looked lovely in her black cocktail dress and I let her know it. Are you having a good time? she asked, wanting to make certain my homecoming was as perfect as possible. Its okay... but I bet Tyrone Power looks great in toreador pants. You must be feeling good if youre starting to 157
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make jokes. The concierge was right; the four-piece band, piano, cello, violin and clarinet, were playing Its Only a Paper Moon, and dancers, civilian and military, were drifting onto the oor. Are you going to ask me to dance? May I have the honor? You may, kind sir. We danced for the rst time and I assumed a proper position, and concentrated on keeping off her feet. By the time the band segued into Only Make Believe, I Love You, we had tucked our hands close to our bodies and Alberta pressed her cheek against mine. ... Might as well make believe that I love you, for to tell the truth, I do... When we sat down she said, Thank you... Thank you for your letters. Ive read them many times and Ive kept them all. Thank you for being here, Lee. Nothing could have kept me away. Alberta alternately nibbled at a sandwich and sipped her Shirley Temple, and then she put them both down and looked at me. Lee, have you made love to many women? What kind of question is that? I stalled. A direct one. No, not really. I took a gulp of my scotch. Well, like who? she asked. I hear these stories 158
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about the natives getting lighter after a while. Nothing like that. Then who? I dont know. You dont know? I dated a nurse in New York a couple of times. Was it good? Good?... I guess you could say that. Is that all? Were there others? Well, there was a girl at school. How was that? I was too drunk to remember. Alberta took the glass of scotch out of my hand and set it aside. I raised my eyes from the glass to her. She was looking at me straight on. Boldly. I dont want you to be too drunk to remember, and I dont want you comparing me with anyone else. Alberta, you dont have to do anything... just being with you... There has to be a rst time for everything, and what if something happened to you? Nothings going to happen to me. There was a long silence, then Alberta said, Lee, are you in any kind of trouble? No, no. No big deal. Why did you turn away when the Shore Patrol came by?... We cant have secrets, Lee. 159
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I failed to salute some jerk and I got conned to the base. But I wasnt going to miss this. I dont want anything to happen to you, Lee. Tears welled in her eyes. Would they come in here? The Shore Patrol? Not for officers. Theyre usually looking for sailors or breaking up ghts in bars. Maybe we ought to get out of here. She stood up and as I was getting my wallet out Alberta polished off my scotch and made a face. The sandwiches I believe were on the house, but I left a ve-dollar bill for the drinks. Thats what Cary Grant would have done if Deborah Kerr had invited him upstairs. In the elevator Alberta said to give her 20 minutes. The elevator stopped at her oor rst. We kissed and she started out, then turned back. Its got to be in the dark, is that alright? Of course. How would Cary Grant have answered that? What else could he say? Twenty minutes later, I tapped lightly on Albertas door and let myself in. When the door closed behind me it was pitch black. Lock the door, please, Lee. Her voice came from where I suspected the bed was. I groped for the knob, turned it and moved cautiously into the room. Where are you? 160
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Here! Thats a clue, anyway. Keep talking. She didnt but I started peeling off my uniform,
dropping things on the oor. I almost called you and told you not to come, she said. I would have ignored the message... Damn. I mean darn. What? My shoelace is knotted and I cant see to get it untied. Well Im not turning the light on. Standing on one leg trying to pull off my shoe, I fell heavily, hitting the dresser, a chair and the oor. A table lamp fell moments later. Alberta asked if I was alright. I grunted yes as the shoe nally came off. I managed to get the rest of my uniform off without incident and I felt my way to the bed just wearing my Skivvies. I was in more familiar territory now and I snuggled close to Alberta. She was wearing some long satiny thing, probably bought for the occasion, a waste of money if I wasnt allowed to see it. I hope that crash doesnt bring the house detective, I said. I felt Alberta stiffen. Im kidding, Im kidding, I assured her, and she seemed to relax. But I couldnt leave well enough alone and I added, Well, at least well have something to tell 161
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our grandchildren. We will not! We both laughed.
I found her lips and her
breasts in the dark and the laughter died away. Alberta and I remained in Washington that weekend. She didnt want me running into the SP so we stayed pretty close to the hotel. She was still worried about the SP thing, despite my assurances that not many fugitives stayed at the Mayower. Nor would she allow me to have any meals for two sent up to her room. So we became familiar gures with the hotel staff, particularly the waitress in the coffee shop. We arrived for breakfast at approximately the same time but not together. Im sure we were fooling no one. I did my laundry in the sink and let it dry overnight on the radiator. Monday morning Alberta asked me to leave her alone. She wanted to call in sick to work and she didnt want me to hear her making up stories. She told me she also called her mother and assured her she was alright and would be home Tuesday. I doubt she was fooling her mother either. The entire country was on a war footing. Certain things had priorities, including affairs of the heart. Gasoline was rationed as was meat. Items on the hotel menu were not always available. There were restrictions on lighting. I heard a taxi driver shout out his window, Dont you know theres a war 162
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on? One heard that a lot. Dont you know theres a war on? What a war. I think he was shouting at someone who had his headlights on high and he didnt want the Luftwaffe taking advantage of it. His windshield bore a little blue sticker that allotted him extra gas. My plan was to return to the base Tuesday and hope for the best. I was certain they would cut a little slack for someone with six battle stars and I assured Alberta as much. I found myself rehearsing speeches for some as yet unknown senior ofcer. Alberta and I did take in a show Monday night. We opted for Orchestra Wives with Linda Darnell and Glen Miller. It was ne. We both liked it. The air was crisp when we left the theater but the sky was clear. Alberta suggested we walk back. This would be our last night together and I think she wanted time to talk before we were in each others arms. Women think about such things. I was hesitant. It would be a half hour or so through various neighborhoods, but I reluctantly agreed. We set a good pace along wide avenues, and narrow streets. We cut through parks and empty parking lots. Alberta said nothing about marriage, but terms like ... life with you, and We could always... crept into her speech. I wanted to marry Alberta, but my plan was to get an eye-popping ring 163
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and ask her properly maybe even on bended knee. I knew it would mean so much to her. We were emerging from a park pathway onto the perimeter sidewalk when a guy standing at the back of a clunker car called out, Can you gimme a hand here? I got a dead battery. The street was dimly-lit, but I could see he was a Marine enlisted man. I cant help you tonight, I said. Ill call a tow truck if you... A st ew out of the darkness of the shrubbery, hitting me on the side of my face. To this day I dont know if there really was a dead battery or I was the chance victim of a mugging that went awry. I was knocked off my feet and had a blurred vision of the Marine by the car taking off running. He must have recognized that I was an ofcer and hed be implicated in serious charges. Flight was not so easy for the Marine who had hit me. Alberta was on his back hanging on desperately with one arm around his neck. While he struggled to break free of Alberta, I staggered to my feet and leveled a punch at his jaw, sending them both sprawling. Alberta pulled herself free, but the Marine seemed to be unconscious, or at least stunned and vulnerable. During the past three days with Alberta, talking, walking, dining, dancing, making love, she, Berlin, Kern and Gershwin had spread a soothing, if not 164
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healing balm over my rage. I did not take umbrage at imagined slights. There were no slights. There were no orders, except the ones I gave most respectfully in the dining room. Alberta wouldnt allow room service even though I suggested she hide in the bathroom when the food was delivered. The three days had served to form scar tissue over a festering sore that had really not healed. But this blow to my face ripped away the veneer of civilization. I had been attacked and now the predator was vulnerable at my feet. Here at last was justication, an opportunity to vent my spleen. I dropped on the Marine, letting my knees do as much damage as possible, then started pounding his face with both sts. As I kept it up, Alberta screamed at me and pushed me off. Youre killing him! I scrambled back to my feet and started kicking and stomping him wherever I thought it would do the most damage. There was nothing defensive about it. The man was beaten and he was no longer my downed opponent. He was Boda, the whole fucking Navy and all its chicken shit. He was all the brass, all the protocol, the saluting. He was the Japs who had killed those young Marines. I was not at the edge of a park, I was on an atoll enveloped in a white rage. As I circled the prostrate Marine looking for choice places to stomp and kick, Alberta shoved me. 165
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I shoved her. She fell, then threw herself on the M a r i n e, sheltering him, and there were no longer good target areas. I fell back, gasping for air. There was blood on Albertas suit, when she got awkwardly to her feet. She stared at me in disbelief. Had she made love with this... this... beast?
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hen I got back to the Newport Naval Base there was a note on the door to my room: Lt. Cooper you are ordered to report to Captain Frey, Base Commander, immediately. See notes on your bunk. On my bunk there were six or seven notes: Contact your Duty Ofcer. The dates advanced. The last one shrieked, Report to your Duty Ofcer immediately. It was almost midnight Ill see him in the morning, I said to myself, so I began to undress and was about to climb into bed a loud knock on the door. A sailor, an SP band on his arm, entered the room. Im ordered to take you to the duty ofcer, the sailor said. Should I challenge him? I wondered no, he was only following his orders. So I got dressed and got ready to follow him. There, standing just outside my room was another SP here started the chicken shit, I mumbled to myself so I walked, anked by the two sailors, into the cold night air to the duty ofcers building, 167
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a half mile away. The sailors escorted me to a small room with a chair next to an ofce with a window facing the room where I was seated. The sailors left. I looked through the window. There sat an ofcer at a desk my rank, who pretended not to see me more chicken shit. I waited, half asleep, when another ofcer came in and entered the windowed ofce. The two talked, occasionally looking out the window at me. One of them came out. Mr. Cooper? I nodded. You are to report to the ofcer at Building 92 at 0600 hours and get his signature on this document, he said. I looked at the piece of paper. It read, Lt. Cooper reported to me at 0600 hours this date. name and date. Building 92 was at the far end of the base, a mile away. There was no time to sleep it was 0300 hours, so I swallowed several cups of coffee and started off for Building 92. The ofcer at 92 signed the document, then handed me another piece of paper ordering me to report to another building on the other side of the base, a mile away, getting the required signature. This chicken shit was piled all over me. I was an errant schoolboy, having to do penance for misbehaving and having to get the teacher/ofcer signatures on sheets saying, Ive been a bad boy. 168
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This childish game continued for a week, dreamed up by some desk jockies who were going to show me! The inaneness was at an end when I was nally summoned to the ofce of the Base Commander, who of course made me wait an hour before I was ushered into his ofce. More waiting while the Captain studied my personnel jacket. I was still standing at attention. The Captain said, nally, At ease, but didnt motion me to the chair nearby. Cooper, said the Captain, putting down my personnel jacket, What the hell is the matter with you? Youve been in six major invasions, with sea duty without let up for almost three years. R&R long overdue, so we give it to you, nally. And do you take advantage of it? Do you, Cooper? the Captain asked. I said, No, sir, which sounded more like, Fuck you, when I said it. The captain eyed me carefully but continued picking up my personnel jacket. It says you were cited three times for bravery in combat. You also volunteered, it says, for hazardous duty on one occasion. How come your Commanding Ofcer didnt request any medals like a bronze star at least? I dont know, sir, I replied. A long pause the Captain was mulling something over in his mind, but said nally, Youre dismissed. 169
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As I turned to leave, the Captain said, You know, going AWOL is a court-martial offense. I could have put you up for it, but have decided not to do it personally, I think youre nuts. Thank you, sir, I replied. Get the hell out of here, Cooper, and be sure and salute Commander Lawry or any other superior ofcer. Yes, sir, and I left. I resumed my R&R for the remaining week or so and remembered to salute any superior ofcers. This R&R duty had at least one advantage; it had given me the time and opportunity to le a report with CincPac in Pearl about Boda, telling in detail of his conduct as the Tylers C.O.: his reckless commands, the death of Templewood and his crew in the practice landing in the Philippines, his arbitrary punishment of 30 days bread and water no matter how trivial the infraction, his sadistic glee when fomenting ghts between the crew and Marines, his irresponsibility ordering me to stand 30 consecutive midwatches. I gave complete details, witnesses dates and special circumstances. The orders on my bunk were marked URGENT. I had to report to the USSMcKinley in less than seven days time in San Francisco, where the ship was docked; it would leave port in less than a week. I h a d o nly minutes to pack my belongings. 170
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No time to call Alberta. I would nd time to call her when I got to the West Coast. As ordered by the Captain, a base Jeep was waiting outside my BOQ to take me to the Newport aireld to board a MATS C-47. The plane was going to y me and some other ofcers, also just released from R&R, to San Francisco. The Jeep driver, carrying my Val-Pak, and I had just left the BOQ building. I happened to look across the street just as I was getting into the Jeep, when I noticed Commander Lawry approaching, the same State-side prick who had brought on all my grief. I shouted to him. And in parting, Commander Lawry, may I say without hesitation, mental evasion or reservation, Fuck you. And you can put that in your little pad, prick! Commander Lawry stopped dead in his tracks. He slapped his breast pocket looking for a pen. There was none. I felt reasonably certain he would not pursue the breach in military etiquette across the Pacic or go to the Captain again and report my insubordination. It might reect on his image. It might suggest that perhaps he wasnt deserving of more respect. Naturally, the driver and the two other ofcers were staring at me agape, worried that they might become involved in this heresy. I piled in and said, brightly, Newport Field, driver! And dont spare the horses, came a voice from 171
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the back. I think they were a little exhilarated by my insubordination, including the driver, who took off with screeching tires. As we pulled away, If thats Rest and Recuperation, shouted one of the other ofcers to Lawry, you can shove it up your ass! We were all headed to the same place, some to come back, some not. But it made for instant camaraderie, ofcers and sailors alike. That in itself was R&R.
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he C-47 gooney bird lumbered along for two uneventful, boring days, until we nally reached San Francisco after many stops. During the ight with about a dozen or so other Naval ofcers, the p r o p - s l i pstream noise made conversation impossible. Whatthehell was there to talk about, anyway? All of us had been in battles, some more than others, otherwise no R&R. If we had been able to or had wanted to talk, there was only one thing we would talk about: How long before Im a civilian again? I studied the faces of my fellow travelers. They were the faces of young-old men, guys who grew up in a hurry. Which battles were they in? How many close calls did each have? How many would carry emotional, psychological scars for the rest of their lives? Would they talk about it back home? Or, would they discourage questions about their experiences? Why talk about it anyway? Only those who had actually experienced it would really understand what its like. How could you 173
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explain it anyway? The smell of blood, your own, streaming up your nostrils. Afterwards, your voice is hoarse. You had been yelling, only you werent aware that you were doing so. Like me, the other ofcers were 90 Day Wonders, the civilian militia, the Cincinnatuses, who served their country by being placed in the forefront of battles, getting killed or wounded along with their 2nd and 1st Louie counterparts in the other services. We were the backbone of the fighting forces, those who led sailors, soldiers and Marines into battles based on grand plans devised by the MacArthurs, the Nimitzes, the Eisenhowers. We and our men were the guys who made it happen, who won or lost the many skirmishes whose outcome was a victorious battle or something else. Too often the plans went awry, as a result we citizen soldiers were killed or wounded in greater numbers than had been planned. And dont forget about the shit details, including more hazardous/ less desirable duty assignments passed out to guys like those of us on the gooney bird while the Annapolis/West Pointers got the glamorous, the preferred billets, the capital ships like battleships and cruisers, and often desk jobs away from harm. We nally put down at the San Francisco airport in the late morning. I rushed to a phone booth, beating the other guys on my ight. No answer at 174
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Albertas phone. Maybe I dialed the wrong number. I tried again, while I heard cursing at my back. Still no answer. Where was she? It nally dawned on me, there was a three-hour time difference between the left and right coasts... Shed be at work. Id made my one call and yielded the precious phone to a line of six or eight other ofcers. Oh, well, I thought, Ill call her from the Embarcadero, where the McKinley was docked. I got out of the cab that had taken me to the docks, and looked around for a phone booth in that cavernous structure, but none was in sight. Therell be time, I was convinced, to call Alberta before the ship got underway, so I decided to board the USS President McKinley, a huge gray hulk, a new attack transport. I saluted the OOD on duty at the quarterdeck as I came aboard. You just made it, he said. Were due to get underway shortly. He motioned to the quartermaster at watch, and said, Take Mr. Cooper up to the Captain. The quartermaster and I walked up the ladder. The sailor knocked on the door and the low, rasping, growling voice, Come, was unmistakable. It was Boda. He sat at a green felt-covered table in the middle of the room. He looked up at me as I stood at attention. He put me in the mind of a spider eyeing at leisure an insect trapped in its web. Only he looked 175
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uglier, more so since the last time I had seen him, h i s f a c e m o r e b l o t c h e d t h a n b e f o r e . H e d probably been drinking heavily in port. Well, Cooper, small war. He let that rest a while enjoying my discomture. Its no coincidence that youre here, incidentally. I requested you. I just stood there at attention. Dont you have anything to say, Cooper? No, sir. You usually have a lot to say. Isnt that right, Cooper? I knew that any response would be the wrong one, so I said nothing. I gather from your report to CincPac that you were unhappy with the way I ran the Tyler. Is that right, Cooper?... I asked you a question, Cooper. Yes sir, I did send in a report to CincPac. Well, the Navy doesnt put a lot of stock in the ramblings of a disgruntled ofcer who was delusional. What was it the SMO had said about you? Post-traumatic something or other due to Tarawa, Iwo Jima and other places. Here, pointing at a piece of paper on his desk, Look at the SMOs report. But the important thing was this: The John Tyler performed well. His voice was rising. I was her Captain. I was in charge. Thats what interests the Navy. Performance. The rest is dreck. He emphasized the word. 176
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I realized then that the brass at Pearl hadnt bothered to check with me or anybody else among the names I had mentioned to verify what I had reported. They had placed sole reliance on the rebuttal of the man I was reporting. Just like Gatch had said about redresses of wrongs must be submitted through channels, and the Navy takes care of its own. And here was this sociopath still in command of the lives of others, only this time with a bigger ship with more ofcers and men. As insignificant as it is, I dont appreciate having such a complaint in my tness report even considering the source. But I want to thank you for bringing my shortcomings to my attention, Cooper. He droned on and on. As he talked, I thought of Oscar Wildes novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. The main characters debauching, vile ways are captured in the portraits features, while Gray himself keeps his youthful, unblemished appearance until the end, when the portrait and the man become the same. Only with Boda there was no portrait. His madness was mirrored in his face. Then, nally, I owe you one, Cooper. The Exec will give you your assignments. He let me stand there a good 30 seconds as he savored the moment, then said, Dismissed. I left Bodas cabin hoping the Exec would be Mother Gatch. No such luck. A thin-faced, sallow177
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complexioned Lt. Commander Sherman looked me over coldly as he explained my shipboard duties. Obviously, Boda had given him the word about me. I was now winding up from my fourth year in the Navy, and was designated Senior Watch Ofcer, third in command of the McKinley, after the Captain and the Exec. All this by the simple expedient of having survived that long under the Navys call it by the numbers seniority system. In less than a year I would probably get another half-stripe, making me a Lt. Commander... I should live so long. Rather, did I want to stay in the Navy that much longer? No way. I was assigned my own spacious room, no roommate. Rank Has Its Privileges after all. The McKinley was one of the latest attack transports. Unlike the Tyler and others of her vintage that had been converted from merchant ships, usually passenger vessels, the McKinley was especially designed and built for amphibious operations. No inlaid wood in the dining room, no fancy plumbing in the heads. The ofcers rooms, like everything else, were strictly Spartanfunctional. The gun stations, the navigation gear, all other equipment and rigging were integral parts of the ship, not afterthoughts tacked on. The McKinley ofcers were Repls, newly-minted Ensigns and JGs. As a Lt., Senior Grade, I was one of the old-timers, one of only a few ofcers of that level 178
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of seniority on the ship. Was I Remarques disillusioned Paul, returning from furlough in All Quiet on the Western Front? Was Gatch Remarques Kat, the Navy-wise sailor who knew how to take care of his men and himself? I could only hope that there would be no parallel between Gatch and me and the fate suffered by Paul and Kat. Only there was no Mother Gatch around to watch out for me. From now on I was on my own. If Boda really intended to have me killed, Shermans cold demeanor toward me made it obvious that he was eager to carry out Bodas wishes. I was unpacking my gear when I felt the McKinley get underway.
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would not have to wait long for Bodas rst effort to get me killed. After we had been underway about three weeks, on our way to the next invasion, we anchored with other ships in Ulithi Lagoon and I was given orders to report to the Blue Ridge. I announced my name to the Blue Ridges OOD as I entered the quarterdeck and was escorted by a sailor to the wardroom. Attention! barked the Admirals aide as the Admiral entered the room where about a dozen ofcers including me had been summoned for a special meeting aboard the Admirals agship, Blue Ridge, a communications vessel. The Admiral said, Sit down, gentlemen. His aide then handed each of us an envelope marked Secret. We were directed to open the envelope and read the enclosure. After a few moments, the Admiral read aloud a line on the enclosure which said, I understand that this assignment will involve hazardous duty. (I will volunteer) (I will not volunteer). There was 181
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a signature line. I need to explain what this is all about, gentlemen, said the Admiral. Before you make your decision to volunteer or to refuse to do so its entirely your decision whether you want to take part in this very important mission. First, the Admiral went on, Each of you here was selected by your Commanding Ofcer as the best representative of his ship and the one who will bring credit to his command. I heard the guy sitting next to me mutter Bullshit under his breath. Continuing, the Admiral explained, Intelligence tells us the Japs have ringed the entire landing area of our next planned invasion with sonic mines, obviously designed to explode when our landing craft enter the area on their way to the beach. We need ofcers who will make sure that speciallytted boats with explosive charges in their bows are steered into the Jap mines, several boats abreast clearing the area for the landing force. The mined area has been marked with ags our planes have dropped. Rescue boats will follow you, and will pick you and your coxswain up after youve both jumped off your boats. Now, this is important you are to jump off no farther than 50 yards from the mined area and only after making sure that your boat is steering directly into the mined area. Weve made 182
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some tests and were satised that you will not be harmed by the explosions at 50 yards distance. But because our uppermost concern is about your safety weve designed some special clothing that will protect your body against the explosions. Now, any questions, gentlemen? Heads turned this way and that no questions heavy breathing somewhere in the room a mufed Fuck you. If the Admiral heard it he did not pick up on it. He left the room. His aide stood by the door to collect the signed documents, either I volunteer or I do not volunteer. Probably everyone decided the same as I, they did not volunteer. No matter all of us wound up in the Volunteer Fleet. Obviously, each of us had been on their C.O.s shit list. On D-Day I climbed down the debarkation net to my boat. Phillips, my coxswain, was waiting alongside for me. It was just getting light as we took off toward the island joining the other nine boats, each with a volunteer ofcer and a coxswain. I wondered if the coxswains were given the choice of volunteering or not. I stood near Phillips, at the engine box, wearing my bulky special clothing, but as there was more light, I noticed Phillips was not. Wheres your special clothing? I asked. He didnt know what I was talking about. I swore under my breath. Did they tell you what 183
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this is all about? I called. Im supposed to take you to the beach, then head back to the ship? I said, Crissakes! No!... Now listen to me, Phillips. I told him carefully and slowly I could see his hands shaking on the steering wheel. All ten boats were now at the line of departure, marked by two destroyers stationed a couple of hundred yards apart. The sun had just begun to rise as we headed in. I looked at Phillips and he looked back at me, clearly frightened. I grabbed him by the shoulders and said, Now, just do as I tell you, and you and I will come out of this fucking mess alive. He nodded with a wan smile. The Japs opened up as we neared the beach. I looked at the other boats by sheer luck, we were all in a straight line, heading toward the mines, just as we had been told to do. The ofcer in the boat next to mine raised a ag a sure way of attracting concentrated Jap re. His boat was blown out of the water, in pieces, the machine gun re having struck the explosive charge at the boats bow. We were about 100 yards, I estimated, from the ags marking the location of the Jap mines, so I yelled to Phillips, Get ready to jump! I looked at the other boats the ofcers were standing at the gunwales, poised to jump. Most of us, except one 184
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a jerky ofcer trying to win a medal for bravery, or maybe scared shitless, or maybe dead from enemy gunre Ill never know. But he wasnt visible. Phillips and I were in the water as the boats approached the mines. We were both buoyed in the water by our kapok life jackets and I shouted at Phillips, Turn your back toward the beach! I also turned away just as all of the boats leapt crazily into the air, breaking into pieces as the mines went off. The sound wave hit me I felt as if Id been hit in the back with a sledge hammer. A lot of good my special clothing did, I was no better off than Phillips without it. The rescue boats were to pick us up in ten minutes. It was much longer than that, but they did nally arrive. At least that went right in this mess. We were pulled from the water. Only ve ofcers and seven men out of the twenty survived. We were then taken to the Navy hospital ship, the USS Charity for observation. An Admiral visited us in the ward not the same one who had briefed us telling us we were all going to be recommended for the Unit Citation, at least the Bronze Star. Didnt happen. As I got aboard the McKinley the following day, I looked up on the Nav Bridge There was Boda, looking down at me with a look that said theres always tomorrow. Before tomorrow came, the Enola Gay dropped 185
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the bomb on Hiroshima, then another fell on Nagasaki. The island invasions stopped as we awaited results. There have been arguments about the advisability re humanity of the atom bombs dropped on the Japanese mainland and there is no point in my expanding on it here. Sufce to say, I fully believe I would not have come out of it alive if we had continued the island hopping, and eventually attacked the Jap home islands. Sorry, Captain Boda.
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he VJ celebrations stateside had come and gone by the time we docked in San Pedro. I gave no sentimental backward glance at the McKinley. Quite the opposite, I was glad to be off her once and for all. I had my orders directing me to report for temporary assignment to the Potomac River Naval Command in Washington, D.C., for honorable discharge. I carried my Val-Pak and a sea bag with my belongings, including a Japanese flag and a samurai sword. It would be another few weeks before I was ofcially discharged but in essence, I was out of it. Boda, the Navy, and all the chickenshit would soon be behind me. Not really. I didnt recognize it at the time, but I was still packing it all with me, seething in my gut. The killing, the fear, the trembling, the bodies, the body parts washing up on shore only to be pulled back again with the undertow. You knew someone back home had said a prayer for those guys. Theyd probably 187
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prayed plenty themselves. Maybe God was going to take care of them, but He hadnt counted on the stupidity of the Navy the careless research picking a landing spot where the landing craft would get hung up on a reef making perfect targets. If they cant gure out when its high tide or low tide someone doesnt know his asshole from a porthole. Was it just luck that I was going ashore and Brown and Peacock were not or was it preordained? Id think about all that some other time. I had thwarted death and Boda. That was good enough for now. I headed toward the main gate along with maybe a couple of dozen ofcers and sailors on liberty or shore leave from other Navy vessels in the shipyard. Looking ahead, I spotted something familiar. I knew that hulking gure with the bear-like lope. He had another stripe, but it was Tom Gatch, alright. He was also heading toward the main gate. I hurried ahead and slapped him on the back. He turned. For crissakes, Cooper, I gured you for dead, or at least MIA, he roared, grabbing my shoulder. Gatch was on shore leave from his new command, the Ramsey, a Fletcher class destroyer. Gatch was a three-striper, a Commander, no less. We stopped to compare notes, both of us looking to go on the town for a long weekend. Hollywood? Wasnt that the land of the rich and famous? It was 188
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agreed. There were plenty of cabs waiting so we grabbed the rst one in line. We were in California and we wanted to get as far away as possible from the smell of docks, fuel oil and the sea air that laid a blanket of moisture over everything. Hollywood, said Gatch to the driver. It would be nearly a two-hour ride and the cab driver was pleased. Wed had no place to spend money at sea and our pockets jingled. Gatch and I talked about the most prominent thing we had in common, that shithead, then grew silent. Gatch was a from a small town outside of Seattle, but he was in no hurry to get back there. Hed received a Dear John from his wife about three months earlier. Shed gone to work for Boeing doing the right thing and had fallen in love with an engineer who was deferred. Gatch still had the letter and he read me part of it. She even described the guy and said how nice he was. One more reason to be pissed at the unfairness of it all. Gatch wanted to get a little fun under his belt before going back to work in his fathers lumber yard. That was ne with me, though Alberta was on my mind. How had she spent the evening? Had some deferred guy in her work place moved on her? There were plenty of them there. Id call her when we got squared away in a hotel. Though it would be after midnight back there. Maybe that was too late. 189
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Id give her a call in the morning. Frankly, I was afraid to call. What if she was out? How would that sit with me? I didnt want to dump any unnecessary anxiety on myself right then. I hadnt seen her in a year. We hadnt made any promises. And there had been that ght. She was glad to be rid of me that night. Nothing Id say seemed to have any effect on her. She had checked out of her room the next morning. Maybe what I thought of as an understanding was just in my head. Id dated a Navy nurse twice in New York, but that was different a guy could get killed. But just the thought of Alberta lying on a bed with some guy, even reading the funnies, sent a rush of adrenaline through my body. I stowed it and asked the driver if he could recommend a hotel. He was a vet from the ETO and had part of his ass shot off. He had to use a lot of pillows but he considered himself lucky. The driver took us to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. We tipped him generously and he asked if there was anything else he could do for us. Like what? said Gatch, eagerly, knowing full well like what. Come on, I said, We can do better on our own. We went inside and thanks to a cancellation got the last double in the house. A lot of people, displaced by the war, had decided to stay in California. 190
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The room could have used some fresh paint, but why bother? The place was lled every night. Gatch was at the window where hed pulled back the lace curtains once white, now tan and was looking down Hollywood Boulevard. Theres the Graumans Chinese, he said. Youve heard of that, havent you? I had but I wasnt going to get off the bed and look. I was more interested in the telephone. Id probably wake her if I called at this hour. When Gatch said, Lets get out of here, I grabbed the phone and called Alberta. I let it ring ten times. I counted. Gatch had stopped talking, surmising what was happening. After I hung up, I was sorry Id called. I was happier in my fools paradise. Okay, I said with more enthusiasm than I felt. Where do you want to go? Hollywood and Vine, Gatch said. Thats where all the action is. I read about it in the beauty parlor when I was having my hair done. What hair? I shoved him through the door. He was no longer my Exec after all. Gatch laughed. The desk clerk said we could probably walk there and thats what we did, taking in the sights along the way. The seedy souvenir shops, the girls, escorted and unescorted. We stared boldly, from head to toe, at the girl friends of three Zoot suiters. Two were okay. We also met the challenging glares 191
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of the Zoot suiters head-on. Hell, what could happen that hadnt happened? Nobody blinked and we kept on walking east. We found ourselves on a collision course with two tight-skirted ladies, but I wanted none of it and veered to starboard. Gatch did smile and tip his hat in passing and bade them good evening. I reminded him that our destination was Hollywood and Vine. Thats where the action was. And he said, Steady as she goes. Somehow I felt responsible for seeing that Gatch had a good time this evening. I knew there was a little Pagliacci in his bravado. He was aching inside. The sights, the activity, were serving, to some extent, to settle my disquieting thoughts about the phone call. But I knew it was nothing compared to what Gatch must be feeling. We arrived at Hollywood and Vine without incident, and stood on the southwest corner taking in this famous, but unimpressive intersection. There was vehicular and pedestrian a cross-section of America trafc obeying the signals, which rang a bell when they changed. There were a few neon signs and buildings that needed sandblasting. I dont know what Gatch expected; a squad of lonely, lost cheerleaders, perhaps a bevy of starlets who, while waiting for their big break, wanted nothing more than to express their undying gratitude for a 192
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job well done. They must be clustered at another intersection. People brushed past us, going about their business. This must be the grateful nation wed been protecting. If anyone needs proof that life goes on after war and death, let them stand on the corner of Hollywood and Vine at 2100 hours on a Thursday evening. It would have been nice if someone had said, Can I buy you a beer? Nobody noticed us. I wanted to say, Does anybody have any idea what kind of crap weve been through? I was ready to head back to the hotel, but I waited for Gatch. Thats when the action happened. A lilting young voice called out: Hey, Popeye the Sailor Man! Another, equally pleasant feminine voice added, Toot, toot! We turned to see a shiny, pigeon-blood red Chevy convertible stopped at the signal. There was a civilian driving and a girl beside him. In the back seat were two blondes in fur coats. These had been the girls who had called to us. It was all in good fun and they were in high spirits and smiling. Wanna go to a party? one called. They could have been starlets, they were both beautiful. Sure do, said Gatch and started for the convertible. I was right behind him. Was this really happening? The light changed and the car started forward. 193
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Gatch and I, undeterred, vaulted, scrambled, tumbled and fell into the back seat with the girls. Though it was left unspoken, the seating arrangement seemed to be a foregone conclusion. The two girls stood up to accommodate us, then lowered themselves onto our laps, each putting an arm around our necks to supplement the delightful congestion. Rogers and Hammerstein had not yet written the musical South Pacic, but later, whenever I heard the song, A Real Live Girl, that scene in the back seat of the red Chevy instantly came to mind. As far as one could determine, especially with all that fur on, my girl had a great body, but still she was soft, wonderfully girl-like soft. Warmth also comes to mind.. and the feel, and the squeal of a real, live girl. After a year at sea, the scent of her perfume and her powder and her hair and just her, was intoxicating. My hands were properly positioned around her waist, but she moved one under her coat and onto her breast. That was between her and me and God. We dont want our Sailor Boy getting cold, she whispered, letting her lips touch my ear in the delivery. No wonder everyone was staying in California. The lyrics to an earlier song came to mind. If Im not near the one I love, I love the one Im near. Thoughts of Alberta not being home 194
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were less troubling, if indeed they crossed my mind at all in the back of that Chevy. I dont know how Gatch was doing, but at one point his girl threw her head back and laughed. How long have you been at sea? But she was apparently not really offended and snuggled back. We turned left and started up a winding side road. I pressed my face between the fur collar and her hair and closed my eyes. The party was located at a large Spanish style house in the Hollywood Hills. I heard Gatchs girl say it used to belong to Ramon Navarro. Gatch hadnt heard of him. I never did nd out what the party was all about but there were a lot of people there, mostly civilians. An Air Force Captain with his collar open had a patch on his left shoulder, but it was neither 8th nor 9th. He was with another Captain from the Signal Corps. Both were with striking girls. Probably theyd done their stint here in Lotus Land. The Air Force Captain let his eyes drop briey to the six battle stars on my campaign ribbons. Good! Take a good look. I had no reason to be pissed at him because of the unfairness of it all. The country needed the man behind the man behind the gun. I remembered Langfords sarcastic line on Pearl Harbor day, Its a dirty job but somebodys got to do it. A lady in a black maids outt relieved the girls of their coats and headed for a bedroom. Gatch and 195
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I squeezed through the group at the bar and ordered two scotches. If my olfactory senses serve, said Gatch, Muriels been drinking vodka and tonic. We ordered two of those and handed them to the girls when they returned, having repaired the damage of riding in an open car with two sailors. We raised our glasses and drank. The underwater lights in the swimming pool were on and it shimmered green and blue and white. Lets go see the pool! said Gatch. Even though Gatch had three stripes and was an excellent ofcer and earned the respect of the entire crew, all the country had not been taken out of him. If Gatch was impressed with something or curious he didnt try to disguise it. We all thought seeing the pool was a great idea. No skinny dipping before twelve, said my girl. Shed told me her name but Id forgotten it. It would come up in conversation. She pressed against the back of my arm as we headed toward the pool. Outside Gatch had to feel the temperature of the water. Maybe hed taken the skinny dipping remark seriously. Gatch and Muriel drifted off into the impressive garden. Whats-her-name and I drank and talked and she looked up at the stars which were dulled by the city lights. Wheres the Little Dipper? she asked, still clinging to my arm. 196
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I dont know, I replied. We have different stars back home. Is that right? I didnt know that. Nobody said she was scholarly. I said she was luscious and a real live girl. And where do you nd a luscious astronomer? We were searching for the Little Dipper when a man called out from the house, Evie, there you are! Evie, that was it, probably Evelyn. Easy to forget. We turned and there was a guy in sports coat and slacks coming from the house. His sports shirt collar was splayed out over his jacket. He approached with his hand extended to take Evies arm. He obviously was not interested in me. He didnt even look at me. It was as though I wasnt there. Cmon, theres some people I want you to meet, he said emphatically. In a minute, Mark, said Evie. This came as a surprise to Mark who was about 50 pounds overweight, with a round face and dark hair that he wore in a pompadour. Now he deigned to glance at me. Mark, this is Lieutenant Cooper. I shifted my drink and extended my hand. Mark gave me a little nod and returned his attention to Evie, taking hold of her arm. Its important that you meet these people, Evie, he said. Maybe she was an actress or something. 197
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When I saw Evie ease her arm out of his grasp I felt it was time for me to intercede. I had no idea who Mark was or what their relationship was, but right now Evie was happy where she was. The lady said shed be in in a minute, I said. I now had Marks undivided attention. He looked me up and down. Who the hell are you? I just told you, said Evie. Hes Lieutenant Cooper and hes with me. Hes been in the war and I invited him. Mark gave me a sardonic snort. So, now what are you, a fucking war hero? I never really thought of it that way, I said, but now that you mention it, yes, Im a fucking war hero. A straight right to his jaw sent Mark over backwards into the pool in a magnicent back op. The location of the Little Dipper was forgotten. Evie set her drink aside and knelt by the pool to give aid and solace to Mark, who had been revived some by the water. There were shouts of alarm from the house and Gatch came running, with Muriel close behind. Gatch was soon beside me. What happened? I didnt answer. I was focused on Mark, who was trying to get out of the pool. If your jaw hurts tomorrow thats a reminder to show more respect for fucking war heroes. 198
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Three stalwarts among the hired help arrived at the scene and the spokesman said, Were going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. When you put it that way well be happy to oblige, I said. Evie, I want to thank you for a delightful evening. She scowled at me. You didnt have to do that. That was uncalled for. Gatch and I were escorted past a silent group of guests, through the house and out to the front door to the street, where the escort left us. Nice going, said Gatch. I didnt answer. It was the rst real evidence that the war, the Navy and Boda, and the whole damned mess had not been left behind. The following morning Gatch was up and dressed when I woke. He said he didnt feel like breakfast and thought hed just look around. Im sure he was still pissed about the night before. Id apologized a couple of times for ruining the evening and there wasnt much more I could say. Catch you later, Gatch said as he went out the door. Actually, I was glad to have a few minutes alone. I glanced at my watch and called Alberta at work. Hi, Alberta. Im back. She seemed excited to hear my voice. Shed prayed for me every day. We got in last night. I called you. We were out. It must have been around midnight, your time. 199
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Alberta picked up on the innuendo. There was a pause, then she said she and her roommate had gone to see Gilda. Oh, I havent heard of it. How was it? It was ne, Lee. How are you? Im ne. Oh Alberta, will you marry me? Alberta said she was wondering if I would ask her, and shed given it a lot of thought. but how are you feeling, Lee? Fine. I mean, overall? Im okay, Alberta. Ive never seen anyone so angry. I was afraid you were going to kill that man. I realized that she was worried about me. Probably more than a little afraid of me. I tried to dismiss the incident as a combination of a lot of things, the drinks, the fact that Id been blindsided, and there had been all that ghting on the islands and it was as if he was the enemy and I was ghting for my life and for hers. I recognized that it was probably more than that and I was doing a selling job on her. However, if I really thought that I was in any way a dangerous person, I wouldnt ask her. Alberta, theres no problem really. There was a long pause, then she said, Yes, Lee. Ill marry you. 200
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I love you. I love you, too.
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WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME
hen I was discharged from the Navy in March, 1946, I felt the Navy had taken four years out of my life, good, productive years. Had I been assigned to other ships, and not served under Boda, I probably would have felt differently about the war. Hopefully, I would have had the feeling that I had dedicated four years to defending my country and our way of life. RAF pilots in the Battle of Britain must have soared into the sky buoyed with such emotion. At that time the Battle of Britain was a tight little war in a small arena for all to see. Farmers in their elds could stop and watch the struggle above, knowing that if their boys lost, all was lost. Knowing that, as Churchill had admonished, We shall not ag nor pale. We shall go on to the end... We shall ght with growing condence... We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be; we shall ght on beaches, landing grounds, in elds, in streets and on the hills... 203
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We shall never surrender! Now that was a war one could get caught up in. Everyone knew why they were ghting and everyone knew that to lose was to perish one way or the other. On a much larger scale, the defenders of Stalingrad, starving, exhausted and frozen as they were, must have been charged with the same spirit. Win or perish. We seem to have a need as a species, someone has said, for doing something noble and lofty, like defending ones country from the scourge of evil. I felt that way at times. But it was difcult for me to always keep this in mind on that hell ship. Such feelings I might have experienced in WWII often dissipated aboard the John Tyler, which became the main arena of my war. Maybe Boda would have found another victim if I had not come aboard. Maybe he would not have selected me for his sadistic games had I picked up his damn coin. In my war the real enemy was Captain Boda, not the Japs, though Im afraid that on occasion I did vent my rage which was really intended for Boda against the Japs. There are things I dont even want to think about much less commit to paper. Not only was Boda making my life as miserable as possible, he was hoping I would be killed. He singled me out and staged events to bring about my demise. If I had been killed, whether by shrapnel, small 204
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arms re, drowning, an accident, whatever, not only would I have had a life span of 20 some years, with no wife and no children, but, beyond that, and very importantly, Boda would have emerged victorious and licked his chops. That was one of my main motives to survive. Maybe it was the reason I survived. War nds the Audie Murphys and the Bongs and the Fosses and the other Medal of Honor winners, and heres to them. Seriously. Theyre a different breed. I enlisted and even volunteered for hazardous duty. I carried out my assignments to the best of my ability and when I had decisions to make under re I tried to make the right decision, not always the safe decision. But I felt I had to survive to cheat that bastard out of victory. I was scared shitless like everyone else on those Higgins Boats, and I crunched down when a Jap shell exploded nearby, knowing full well that any evasive action after the explosion would have been far too late. We all knew it. Nevertheless, we all did it. But I carried out the orders given me, improvised when necessary and walked off the ship when it was over. Not everyone did. My discharge was an honorable one. I got a document that proved it, along with $200 in cash, or was it $150? A friend of mine in Bu Pers had dug 205
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out my tness reports. I was really surprised to learn that Boda had said in my tness reports that I was a good ofcer, but had a problem taking orders. Ive thought a lot about that. Even though I was USNR and not USN, and my tness reports were not that important, it could have been a lot worse. He could have tarred my record with damning charges that had a modicum of truth but, through omission of circumstances and background, would give the reader an entirely false impression. Why were my tness reports so innocuous when Boda obviously hated my guts? Maybe if Id been killed in one of his risky and pointless training exercises, something that warranted an investigation, there would be no blood on his hands. ... Personally, I thought highly of Lt. Cooper. He was a ne, brave ofcer. I hated to lose him. And more bullshit. Ill never know the real reason. The government gave returning vets certain rights to their previous or similar government jobs provided they had permanent or comparable status, or otherwise had been employed for one year in their agency. No way did I qualify under either condition. I had not even had my rst day of employment with the Federal Security Agency. I was going to be hired but Pearl Harbor was attacked and all signals were off. Nevertheless, I hoped that maybe Bureau Chief Peterson would 206
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overlook the Length of Employment clause and nd a spot for me. Alberta and I were married now and living in a one-bedroom apartment. We needed income fast. I called for an appointment but the young lady who took my call was not familiar with the name Peterson. So I just dropped by the Standards Branch on 5th and F Streets, N.W. The desks in the large room had been rearranged, including Albertas old desk, but the most noticeable change was Carl Stuckes name on Petersons door. There seemed to be no one guarding it, so I knocked. I heard a drawer close and a male voice said, Come. It was Stucke who glanced up quizzically as I entered. He didnt recognize me, nor did he appear particularly pleased to see me. Stucke was a little heavier and a little balder. I approached his desk with my hand extended. Mr. Stucke, you probably dont remember me. We met briey about four years ago. Leon Cooper. The anxiety left Stuckes face. He shook my hand, although not heartily. I doubt that he shook anyones hand heartily. Stucke motioned me to be seated and rocked back comfortably in his executive chair. Congratulations, I said. His reply was a gesture that said, Things happen. Life moves on. He said, Peterson had a heart attack and retired early. They had me ll in for him 207
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and Ive been here ever since. And then Stucke took an unnecessary shot at that kindly gentleman. Believe me, things were pretty chaotic. It took months for me to get some organization around here. Nice guy, but he was getting on and frankly, I think the job was a little too much for him. There was a pause, then he added, leaning even farther back in his chair, I presume youve been in the military. Navy. Umhmm... You boys all did a ne job, he said in an irritatingly condescending tone. And boys? The guy was probably a year or two older than I. Was he trying to imply he was over age? Shit did I care. It was over. But guys like Stucke who rose dramatically would now be facing real competition. Were you looking for employment, Mr. Cooper? Ah, yes. I know I didnt even get started here, but... Stucke made a helpless shrug, cutting me off. We try to accommodate all the former employees here. Well, of course, we have to under Federal Personnel Rules, and thats only tting and proper. But you never really worked for this Agency, did you, or any branch of the government? I recognized chicken shit when I heard it. I could feel my gorge rising, but maintained my composure. I was a civilian now. I couldnt let 208
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this happen. Not really, I said. Mr. Peterson said he was going to take me on, but then Pearl Harbor You would have had to have worked for at least one year or otherwise met the requirements in order to qualify. Thats what I understand, I was just hoping Im married now and... Youll nd something, Im sure. Stucke started squaring up some articles on his desk. He pulled some papers from the in box and put them in front of him as though they required his immediate attention. Nice seeing you again, I said, and rose. I concentrated on moving my chair and ignored his outstretched hand. There was a tap on the frosted glass of the door and a distinguished-looking man entered. Stucke jumped up, almost to attention, in recognition of his superior. The visitor seemed surprised to nd me there, but he was not at all nonplussed. Hi! he said, Im Van Howell. Van Howell did have a hearty handshake. I wished Id been more ready for it. He put the back of his left hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Let me guess. A returned serviceman seeking employment? Aye aye, sir. 209
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And Navy? I nodded. One can carry that stuff too far. Stucke jumped in. I was just telling Mr. Cooper
that we make it a point to accommodate returning vets, within the rules, but he really didnt ever start work here and... Stucke realized Van Howell was ignoring him and didnt nish the sentence. Van Howell said his son, Dave, was a yer aboard the Antietam, a baby attop. I said I knew it well, we had convoyed with her more than once. Good duty. A classy ship. Im sure I was within a few hundred yards of your son more than once. You must have been in a lot of battles and service as well to be out this soon. Points, isnt it? Yes. Length of service. Combat and other things. Van Howell turned to Stucke. Stucke, we ought to be able to bend a rule or two to nd a spot for Mr. Cooper here, dont you think? Of course, sir, said Stucke eagerly. I was going to try and work something out for him. Maybe in another department. We can nd a spot, or make one, right here. We can always use a good man. Right, Stucke? I couldnt wait to get home to tell all this to Alberta. It would be perfect. The job offered security, and Id have weekends to work on my inventions.
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DOMESTICITY
ike most marriages, my marriage to Alberta settled into a routine of comfortable domesticity. At the time I got a VA mortgage loan my job with the Federal Security Agency looked secure. There was no problem qualifying for a three-bedroom home in Glen Echo Heights on the outskirts of Washington, though one had to look pretty far for the elevation. There were four models; Princess, Countess, Debutante and Baroness. The oor plans were opped for variety and the elevations varied slightly to reduce the odds of a resident walking into a house and calling out, Im home, Honey when there was already some hunk in the lounge chair. Not all models boasted electric dishwashers. In our house the dishwasher was Alberta. I dried. Unless Pete, our rst born, needed attention, in which case I happily washed and dried. Alberta suggested I might be better off working for myself. Every boss I had looked like Boda. I think she had in her mind my opening up a little x-it shop or TV repair, but my mind immediately 211
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ashed to converting the garage into a laboratory and thats the way it came to be. Alberta helped keep us aoat doing typing and bookkeeping for some of the small businesses that were opening on the fringes of Washington, and I worked evenings and weekends in my lab making up things that I thought would be benecial to mankind while I was becoming the second Wizard of Menlo Park. Neighbors brought things to me for repairs, such as rewiring a lamp, or replacing a radio tube, or taking a look at this vacuum. When they came by to pick up the repaired appliances they would often say, Leon, Id really like to pay you something for this, couched as though it was jointly understood that my work was a neighborly favor but theyd like to give me a little gratuity for my time. Often as not I waved it off, and they happily removed their hand from their left hip pocket an indication of sincere intent. I did however receive profuse thanks for my kindness and generosity, and sometimes a little attery. Youve really got a knack for this stuff, Leon. Im all thumbs when it comes to mechanical stuff. Maybe they thought that, like a child, Id be encouraged by their compliments and eager to demonstrate my expertise when somebody brought around some malfunctioning electric razor. I didnt mind doing some guy a favor, but it pissed me when 212
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they treated me like I was stupid. If I had spent any time xing a neighbors Briggs and Stratton, Id say, Ten bucks ought to cover it. They paid, but it came as a surprise and the Thank you, Leons were noticeably less effusive. Shit, they were getting a deal. Let em take their lawn mower to a dealer. Besides, these neighborly jobs were interfering with my Home Safeguard Industries inventions. Alberta had said no cars, and I honored that. But the ten dollars here, the fteen there all helped. There was no question, however, Alberta was carrying more than half the load, doing her typing and bookkeeping and also being the homemaker, taking care of Pete, xing the meals, cleaning doing the things wives do, and, by so doing, giving me time to work on my Home Safeguard wizardry. Around one, 1300 hours, shed stick her head in the garage and say, Lunch, Lee. Then looking around, say, What smells? In time, dear, Id say mysteriously. Alberta was a great wife and I tried to be a good husband. I made a sincere effort to keep my anger in check. I took my pills, which Alberta laid out for me daily and I even tried yoga. But I still felt the rage inside for the Navy, and Boda in particular. I was not always able to keep the lid on. One afternoon I was in the garage working on an 213
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adhesive product which a chance chemical reaction had inspired. The garage door suddenly went up and there stood a large, fat man. His car had been backed into the driveway and the trunk was already open. God, it stinks in here, was his opener. I let it pass. He unloaded the twisted frame and wheels of a 26-inch boys bike. My kid left this in some guys driveway, and hes going to need it Saturday. I just glanced at it from where I was working and said, Im not really set up to handle anything like that. Id have to heat the frame and it would never look right. Youd be better off getting a new one. And pay an arm and a leg? Do you have any idea what this thing cost me? I could feel it coming on. I dont have the slightest, and I really could care less. The man looked at me, then let his gaze wander around the garage from where he stood. What kind of a business you got going here? His tone was challenging, as though I was violating a neighborhood CC&R. I probably was. That tore it. Its my business, and none of yours, and you can take that pile of junk and shove it up your ass, and if youre not off my property in two minutes Ill do it for you. Now get the hell out of here! I shouted. As he picked up the twisted bike I heard the side door open. Alberta was there. She took the situation 214
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in at a glance and disappointment showed on her face. Lunch, Lee, she said, and closed the door. Her tone reected her disappointment. A few days later I entered the kitchen for a lunch break carrying a petri dish with a foul-smelling substance in it. Alberta tried to wave away the smell and said, Please! Get it out of here. I ignored that, knowing how impressed she would soon be with my concoction. Watch this! I said. I removed a Spode tureen, a wedding gift that was on display in the glass cupboard. It couldnt be the every day pottery; that wouldnt be impressive. I turned it over, dipped a new pencil into the goop in the petri dish, then pressed it against the bottom of the tureen for twenty seconds. I counted aloud, ... 17, 18, 19, 20. I then lifted the tureen into the air, just holding the pencil. Its called Perma-Hold. How about that? I held it higher. Alberta said cautioningly, That was my grandmothers. That must have been more responsibility than Perma-Hold could assume because it released its hold on the Spode tureen which was soon in ten pieces or more. Goddamn, I said as I bent to pick up the largest piece. I was a perfect target for Alberta, who kicked me in the rear end. Goddamn, that hurt! I said as I straightened and grabbed my butt. 215
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It was supposed to hurt. I wont have you taking the Lords name in vain in this house. In her state of mind I did not want to take a chance of bending over again and headed for the broom closet. Id let Elmer and WillHold and Krazy have the glue business. I had other, more important projects in the works. We ate lunch in silence and there was only essential conversation at dinner that night. But not all my creations had such disastrous results. We were having an Indian summer in late September when I emerged from the garage proudly holding an aerosol can. Alberta was at the kitchen counter shredding carrots. She knew I liked carrots and raisins together. Out of consideration to the weather she wore a light blue summer dress. There is something sexy about light summer dresses. But time enough for such thoughts. I had a demonstration to perform. It was really more of a test than a demonstration, because I didnt know if it would work or not. Mrs. Cooper, I said, Do you know if that smoke alarm works? I assume it does. But youre not really certain, are you? If this is 20 Questions, I have to pick up Pete in half an hour, so you better get on with it.
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Madame, I have here my little handy-dandy Smoke Detector Tester that no household should be without. I went to the doorway leading into the dining room and aimed the aerosol can at the white disk on the ceiling, then pressed off a shot of spray. The alarm instantly emitted an ear-piercing screech. Alberta clasped her hands to her ears, but it was sweet music to me. I waved away the cloud of smoke with a newspaper and the alarm mercifully stopped. This little baby is going to keep the wolf away from our door for a while. A good distance away. You wont have to work, and its going to give me time to concentrate on that other thing. For the Navy? Yes, for the blank, blank Navy. Alberta came over to me and kissed me and said she was proud of me. I thought it earned a second kiss, and when Alberta started to pull away, I held her rmly. Im supposed to pick up Pete in half an hour, she said. Plenty of time. I kissed her neck and ears. I hate these quickies, she said. Not really, you dont. She didnt argue and as I steered her toward the door I said, Maybe I should take the Tester with us.
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Alberta gave a back of me hand motion toward me, but she didnt really object to a little ribaldry once in a while. If you loved your wife, and you got along, working at home had its benets.
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THE PATENT ATTORNEY
ince I didnt know one from another, I picked a patent attorney whose ofce was near the Agency where I worked. His name was Nathan Epstein. His voice was strong and friendly over the phone. We made an appointment for one the following day. My lunch hour was twelve to one and I knew Stucke would dock me for any extra time, but that was the way it had to be. I saw Stucke emerge from his ofce carrying what appeared to be the report I had given him the day before. He was headed for my desk. I didnt want to cut off Epstein but neither did I want to be caught making a personal call. Stucke had put out a memo a month before regarding personal calls on business phones during work hours. In the memo we were all reminded that we were being paid by the citizens of this country and they were not paying us to conduct personal matters on government time. The phones were provided to facilitate government business, not personal business, and the Agency 219
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would appreciate our cooperation. I dont know where it originated, but it was no surprise that he was known among the employees in our branch as Stupid, not Stucke. I think the main reason he was so adamant about personal calls was that he had no personal life of his own. He was a bachelor who lived alone without so much as a cat. I recognized my report in Stuckes hand as he stood in front of my desk waiting for me to nish my phone conversation. Epstein was giving me instructions on how to nd his ofce. Ill nd it... and thank you very much. I hung up the phone and faced Stucke. Who was that? My wifes doctor, I lied. Were having a baby. Did you receive a copy of the memo I put out on personal calls? The doctor called me. I tried to keep it short. Stuckes response was a cold, reprimanding stare. When he nished playing disappointed superior, he tossed the report on my desk disdainfully. I dont know what you learned in the Navy, Cooper, but apparently it was not how to follow instructions. I issued a memo stating that I wanted the analysis put in vertical columns, and the engineering drawings to be blue lines... I got that, I interrupted, but my report was already nished when the memo came out. 220
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Stucke placed two ngers on my work and said slowly, Do it correctly, Cooper, and Id like it on my desk in the morning. And no personal calls on these telephones. Or didnt you understand that memo either? I was taking deep, calming breaths as Stucke returned to his ofce. Hed had his jollies, and soon Id have mine. Alberta was pregnant and I couldnt afford to lose this job. But I didnt know how much longer I could put up with Stucke. This was not the rst time hed singled me out for some trie. I think, because he wanted to prove Van Howell wrong, he gave special attention to my work, looking for aws. He never questioned the content of the report, my reasoning, my conclusions and recommendations because the body of my report might go to a higher authority. It was the picayune that he concentrated on. Things that had nothing to do with the actual content. I prayed that I could keep my cool. I prayed that my Smoke Detector Tester was patentable. I prayed wed have a healthy baby and Alberta would be alright. Nathan Epstein was just like he sounded on the phone. Open, unpretentious. There were two large apples on his desk and he asked if I wanted one. I lied that I had already eaten. I couldnt have kept anything down. Epstein was overweight and I guessed the apples 221
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were his lunch. He rubbed the apple on his shirt and bit into it noisily. Well, what have we got? he said through the apple. I dug a smoke detector and my aerosol can out of a paper bag and placed them on his desk, then started my spiel. Epstein was so easygoing and I felt so comfortable with him, that I acted out my pitch. Its October, and the National Fire Protection Association has declared a week of that month as Fire Safety Week. The news programs are telling people to make sure their smoke detectors work. So the housewife has to lug ladders, or at least chairs, to every smoke detector in the house risking life and limb, more risky if youre a senior citizen in order to press the test button. Really, all the test button proves is that there is power going through the detector. It doesnt prove that the detector will work in the event of the real thing. Enough of a hassle to put it off o r m a y b e e v e n f o r g e t a b o u t i t a l t o g e t h e r. But if she has Home Safeguards Smoke Detector Tester the housewife has the complete assurance that the detector has been put through its paces, testing the circuitry, the horn, the contacts, the complete system. I picked up the detector and the aerosol can in each hand, All they have to do is just aim 222
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and squeeze. I pressed the button. The detector was enveloped in the simulated smoke and promptly set off a loud screech that brought the secretary in. They both laughed. After I silenced the alarm, Epstein clearly was impressed and said so. He didnt think there was any reason why it couldnt be patented, but he needed rst to make a patent search. You got any money? Enough to pay the rent and the bills. Epstein picked up the can and the detector and then gave it a blast just for the hell of it. The secretary closed the door. I did not hear from Epstein for two weeks, 18 days to be exact. Alberta assured me he would call when he had something to tell me. That was constantly on my mind. And I worried about somebody being home to take Alberta to the hospital when the baby arrived. Driving to work, some kid in a pickup cut me off. I raced after him, and shouted obscenities, and told him to pull over. He laughed at me. At twelve oclock I went to the washroom, washed my hands and stepped into the elevator. A co-worker followed me in as the door was closing. Theres a note on your desk. Stupid wants to see you in his ofce after lunch. God, I said, more chicken shit. 223
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Later, I stood outside a hamburger joint called The White House, but I didnt go in. Instead I drove to a nursery where I asked if they had chicken manure. The employee said they didnt. It was too acidic and would burn plants. We have bat guano, he offered. Close enough, I said. Ill take ve pounds. I knew I was out of control, that this was going to cost me my job, but I was blind to the consequences. I refused to think about Alberta and the baby. I just could not take any more of that prick. In the elevator going up, I opened the ve-pound sack. I wished it smelled more. I strode past the desks in my wing and didnt bother to knock on Stuckes door. I just walked in with my surprise package and stood in front of his desk. Are you just getting back from lunch? he asked. Thats correct. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to tell me that this tardiness could have dire consequences. He was about to get to my latest infraction when he became aware of the package I held. Whats that? Bat guano. Bat guano? Whats that for? Because I couldnt nd chicken shit. Its my 224
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going away present for you. I emptied the contents of the bag on Stuckes desk and on his lap. So long, shit head! Alberta stared at me, her stomach out to here, her mouth agape when I finished telling her about Stucke. There was no point in bringing up the obvious, things like the mortgage and the baby. She started thinking damage control. Do you think you can get your job back? No. And I wouldnt give Stupid the satisfaction of asking. Youre sure not going to get a recommendation from them. Do you have any idea what youre going to do? A few days later Epstein called me at home during dinner. I understand you are no longer gainfully employed, he said. Im afraid not. Boy, you live close to the edge, dont you? Couldnt take it anymore. Then Epstein told me that the patent search showed there was no comparable product and that he had led a patent application. He anticipated no problem getting the patent, just some routine questions that needed to be dealt with; but the best part, Epstein said slowly and carefully, was hed lined up a manufacturer and a marketing 225
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organization. Youll have to give up a piece of the pie but youll do ne. These people know what theyre doing and theyre high on the idea. Its up to you which way you want to go. Mr. Epstein, can I get back to you on that? Ive got to kiss my wife. Shes inclined to worry.
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ANNIVERSARY
rofits from the booming sales of my new invention, Smoke Detector Tester, buoyed our spirits and, ush with new found wealth, we moved to California where we both wanted to live, following the great migration of returning vets to the left coast. Malibu in those days had its colony of movie stars homes, or second homes, on the sands near Cross Creek and Pacic Coast Highway. But Malibu is a 27 mile long strip of real estate, with the ocean on one side of Pacic Coast Highway and hundreds of acres of undeveloped land on the inland side, called by the locals, respectively, the sea side and the land side. Malibu was viewed in those days as far out, i.e., a long drive through the tortuous canyon roads that separated the beach from the San Fernando Valley. Alberta fell in love with the second house we looked at. It had a view of the ocean from the kitchen window as well as the master bedroom. I, too, recalling the verse from that magician with words, Robert Louis Stevenson... Home is the sailor, 227
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home from the sea. The contractor knew what he was doing. I love it, said Alberta. Since the sales agent was standing right in the dining room with us, I thought it might be prudent to say, Wed like to look around a little. I thought maybe the builder would come down ve thousand. On the other hand, if we lost it, Alberta would never forgive me. I like it too, I said, Lets do it. The first year or so while living in Malibu we strolled the sands together in the evening, sometimes with a glass of wine, though alcoholic beverages are forbidden on California beaches sometimes with just our lab. Dogs are also forbidden. But in the winter and fall and spring, even though the weather is warm, the beaches are practically deserted, and huge combers frequently put on a spectacular show. When I watched this magnicent display of power, Alberta would often take my hand. I know she was wondering if that churning sea was churning things up in me. Not really. Dr. Metzler, a therapist I would see, had even suggested walks along the shore. He said he sometimes met highly agitated patients at the beach and he let them talk it out as the sound, smell and the sight of the sea worked its calming effect. Alberta had a much appreciated habit of bringing up the subject of our wedding anniversary a couple 228
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of weeks in advance of the date. Something as subtle as, Do you want to do anything special for our anniversary this year, or just kick back? S h e acquired that habit when I blanked completely on our third anniversary, October third. Alberta never mentioned my laxity. She knew the oversight was due to my preoccupation and eventually the thought would bleed through my turmoiled and overloaded mind, and I would censure myself adequately. She was right on. I was driving west on Ventura Boulevard in the Valley when the moment she anticipated nally arrived. My mind was on bow waves, friction and hydraulics, when I became aware of the music on the radio. The Mills Brothers were singing You Always Hurt the One You Love. We had danced to that at our wedding. I felt a cold chill. Our anniversary was three weeks past. It had not slipped Albertas mind, there was no doubt about that. I stopped and picked up a bottle of chilled Cooks champagne we were still struggling and brought it home and into the kitchen. Alberta was in the bedroom we had set aside as her ofce. I washed the dust off some tulip-shaped champagne glasses wed received as a wedding present and placed them on the sink. The cork came off with a louder pop than I had wished for. I poured some champagne into each glass and carried them 229
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to her work room, where I placed one glass before her. Thank you, dear, said Alberta, Is there some special occasion? Happy anniversary, Alberta. Oh my gosh. It slipped my mind completely. Sure it did. Im sorry. I feel terrible about it. Youre forgiven, she said. I lifted my glass. To many more. Alberta rose and lifted her glass. To many more. We each had a sip. I love you, Alberta, you know that. Yes, I know that, Lee, and Im glad you do because I love you. We put the glasses down and embraced. There was no kiss, we just held each other. We strolled the lane, Together Laughed at the rain, Together. After that I left reminders around my work place so it would never happen again. It didnt. A month before our sixth anniversary, at three in the afternoon when I knew it would be relatively empty, I walked into Chasens Restaurant on Melrose. I had even dressed for the visit and wore a sport coat and tie and my cordovan shoes, which always seemed to maintain a shine. An attractive young lady approached me out of the dimly-lit room and said, Good afternoon. I told her that my name was Cooper and I was 230
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having an anniversary in a month to the day. I wanted to make a reservation and I wanted everything to go perfectly. She congratulated me and added that Chasens would see that we had a very pleasant evening. I nodded my thanks, but I didnt want to leave anything to chance. Im making this reservation early What is your name, please? Ramona. Pretty. Im making this reservation early, Ramona, I repeated, because I want things to go smoothly. I dont want a hassle. I dont want to be told that we can wait in the bar till were called. I dont want to wait in the bar. I could hear the tension rising in my voice and I paused to let it subside and took a deep breath. Here I was talking to this very accommodating, attractive young lady and for no good reason I was getting my back up. Ramona, Im sure you understand my concern here, and thats why Im taking these special pains. What I would like is that table. I pointed to it. The table for two in front of the replace at eight oclock. Tuesday, October third. Well be here at eight sharp and I would like someone to say, Your table is waiting, Mr. Cooper. I tried to lighten it by adding, If a table can wait... Thats not asking too much, is it? Ramonas smile seemed a little tighter than it 231
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was a moment earlier. But she said, Well take care of everything. I still wasnt ready to let it go at that. Id feel more comfortable if you wrote something down. Well take care of it, Mr. Cooper. Dont worry about a thing. She was, in a sense, shufing papers on her desk, telling me that the reservation procedure was in good hands and was concluded. Good afternoon, Mr. Cooper. Well see you on the third. I was being dismissed, so I left and walked to my car parked at the curb down the street, right past the silent, white-shirted valet parking attendants. Id use their services on October third. I thought, waitll the Navy buys my Sea Power concept. Ill buy this fucking joint. Actually, they closed Chasens down about 25 years later. Im not sure why. On October third I was up early and had placed a rose from the garden at Albertas place on the breakfast table. When she appeared in her bathrobe, I said, Put on your best bib n tucker, Honey, because Im taking you out to dinner tonight. Im not sure I have a bib and tucker, she said. I dont think Ive even seen one. Will glad rags do? I know youll look beautiful whatever you wear. Happy anniversary. We kissed. Our four-door tan Oldsmobile was looking its best when we approached Chasens at 7:55. Not only 232
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had I washed the two-year-old car, Id Simonized it and vacuumed it. Alberta had apparently found glad rags, because she looked stunning as a valet opened her door. I took the parking ticket and someone else held the front door for us and bid us good evening. Inside we were received by a tall gentleman in evening clothes. His greeting was professionally polite. We were not familiar faces. Cooper, I said, I had a reservation for two at eight. He checked the book and I saw him react to what he was reading. Then, with a bright smile, he said, We have a very nice booth for you, Mr. Cooper. Ramona will show I interrupted, I dont want to be shown anything other than that table over there by the replace. Anywhere is fine, Lee, Alberta inserted quietly. My gesture to Alberta said, Let me handle this. I continued with the maitre d exercising admirable restraint. One month ago today I came here personally and made a reservation through Ramona here for tonight at eight. Ramona, sensing trouble, looked away from the gathering storm. I specied that table and I was assured there would be no problem. Isnt that correct, Ramona? She didnt answer. The maitre d, lowering his voice, hoping I would 233
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do the same, said that the table was being held for me at eight, but these people have stayed a little longer than expected. Then tell them their time is up. Theyre regular patrons here, Mr. Cooper. Im sure they wont be long. Again Alberta said anything would be alright, but I would have none of it. I made a reservation a month ago for that fucking table. Its for our anniversary. Thats what reservation means, to reserve. And were here on time and I expect my reservation to be honored. Mr. Cooper, were sorry for the inconvenience and Chasens will be happy to have you and Mrs. Cooper as our guests this evening. Thats all we can do under the circumstances. The diners at Chasens had grown quiet and some were looking our way. I didnt give a shit. By this time Id lost it. Sorry, Alberta. Well, its not good enough for me. I strode over to the couple lingering over their coffee at my table. Youre sitting at my table, I said. Please leave. The lady started to rise but her husband or whomever advised her to remain seated. Dont try to be a hero, I advised. Youll regret it. There was a dramatic pause and then I shouted, Get the fuck out of here! This is my goddamned table! I ipped the table. It, the coffee and wine 234
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landed upside-down on the hearth. The two occupants quickly vacated their seats and I righted the table. Amazing how light things can be when the adrenaline is owing. Alberta, our table is ready, I said, my chest heaving. When I turned she was nowhere in sight. But two uniformed police were. I dont know whether they were Beverly Hills or L.A. cops, the restaurant was between the two cities. Probably Beverly Hills, one cop said, Just take it easy, sir. When I couldnt nd Alberta, all the ght went out of me and I walked toward the ofcers. One of Albertas friends said it was mentioned in the Hollywood Reporter the next day. Once the cops were convinced I hadnt been drinking, they let me drive home. Alberta was undressed and in bed by ten-thirty. Sorry would be so pitifully inadequate, I wasnt even going to apologize. When I did start to speak, sobs came out of me. I knelt by the bed and buried my face in the covers. A moment later I felt Albertas hand on my head.
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t was a glorious spring day, the kind of weather that demands one be outside because such days are rationed, even in Malibu. Wearing T-shirt and shorts, I was slumped in a patio chair soaking it all up. The sun was warm but the breeze off the dark green sea made it perfect. Cursed with a Protestant work ethic, I had assured myself that sometimes a brief respite was productive in the overall picture. And, quite aside from that, we owed it to ourselves to pause periodically and smell the owers. I would have enjoyed it even more if Alberta were not in the kitchen rattling utensils. I had urged her to come out and join me and shed said, In a minute. When she nally did push open the sliding glass door, she was holding the Yellow Pages. Theres a Dr. Metzler here in Malibu. Is that okay? We had talked about seeing someone after the incident at Chasens, but I had conveniently pushed the matter into the past, old business, an aberration
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that would not happen again. Alberta, seemingly, did not agree with that assessment. Well? she persisted. I guess. I hoped shed pick up on my martyred tone. Come out and get some sun. In a minute, she said with just a touch of irritation. She closed the door and went off to make the appointment. Eventually Alberta did come out and eased herself into the other chair. I saw her close her eyes for a moment. You okay? I asked. Just tired. There was a shopping center on Heathercliff and PCH. Its still there. It boasts a market thats changed hands through the years, a Bank of America, and a variety of small shops that open and close with regularity. The center also has a two-story Monterey-style ofce building. Dr. Metzlers ofce was on the second oor. The waiting room had a sofa and two club chairs and a lamp table with old magazines. These bore stickers stating they were not to be removed from the ofce. On the doorknob, leading into the inner sanctum, hung two large brass rings. One bore a blue tag, the other a pink. I leafed through a copy of Architectural Digest, a publication I would never have bought off a stand, and viewed the interior of Bob Hopes Palm Springs digs. It was nine minutes after ten; my appointment 238
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was for ten. I put the Architectural Digest back on the neat tier of magazines and rose. Fifteen more seconds and I was out of there. Id explain to Alberta that the good doctor failed to keep the appointment. Yet, I waited for him. My hand was on the doorknob and my eyes on the second hand of my watch. I heard mufed voices and the thump of a door closing somewhere. I turned to see Mr. Metzler framed in the door with the key rings. He was lean, with sandy-colored hair, a few years my senior. He wore a shirt and sweater and corduroy pants. Malibu casual. No beard? What kind of second-rate shrink was this? Leon? he said, pleasantly, taking in the fact that I was standing near the door. Hi, Doctor. I thought maybe youd gotten tied up. My sarcasm Im sure didnt escape him. Sorry, he said, but he did not expand on his tardiness. He held the door open and I followed him down a narrow hall to his ofce. For all the current talk bringing mental health into the open they were still schlepping patients in one door while another exited through a different portal. Were they afraid the patients would meet and say, Whaddaya in for? Metzler indicated a chair opposite his and we sat. There was a chaise lounge to his left. Id be damned if I was going to get on that thing. I didnt like the 239
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idea of being a patient in the rst place and I asked, What do you call your clients, Doctor? Patients? To other professionals, yes. Were you about to leave when I came out? If I showed up ten minutes late for a watch as OOD, Id be in deep shit. Sorry. Dr. Metzler smiled. I wasnt in the Navy but youre not going to shock me with any four-letter words. Ive heard them all. We sat in silence for ve minutes, probably three. Finally I broke it. Do you ask me questions, or what? Its your nickel. Tell me why youre here. Actually, its Albertas nickel. The doctor made a note in his book. Maybe writing down Albertas name. There was a clock strategically placed on a table beside Metzler with sweep hands. It must have been placed there so the patients would know when their time was up. So theyd know when their time was running out and theyd better get to the point. You dont want to be here, said Metzler. Not really. Why did Mrs. Cooper make the appointment? Probably because I got in a kind of fracas at a restaurant. I was waiting for Metzler to ask, What kind of fracas? but he didnt. He just waited for me to 240
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continue. I guess I take umbrage at things faster than most people. Why do you think that is? he asked, and then I started talking about the Navy and Boda. Metzler made notes and every so often hed ask a question. D i d I f e el trapped on the Tyler ? Did I feel victimized? Did I feel things were unfair? My answer to both of these was, Yes. I felt it was a constant struggle for survival, every day, and nothing was fair in life. When I looked at the clock it was ten minutes after eleven. Metzler set aside his notes and said for what it was worth, I was not alone. There were others in VA hospitals all over the country. Hed done intern work at the Sawtelle hospital and had run into dozens of vets who couldnt function at all in civilian life. The session hadnt been so bad. Id even found a little sick humor that had made Metzler smile. And he had a few dry quips himself. I dont know what I expected when the session was over, but I was very surprised when Metzler said he wanted to see me twice a week. We set the days and the hours and he even wrote it all on a card for me so I wouldnt forget. Getting ready for bed that night Alberta asked how it had gone with Dr. Metzler. She would know soon enough, so I told her. He wants to see me 241
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twice a week. I think itll help, Lee. Love you. Love you, too, I said. She turned off the lamp on her side of the bed and turned on her side. A soft sigh escaped her. I kept my appointments with Metzler and even began to look forward to the sessions. We eased into talks about my childhood and growing up and yes, I did harbor a feeling of injustice in my family. Though I had never brought it to the surface and consciously recognized it, I felt my parents favored my older brother, Bill. Somehow they expected more of him and, it seemed to me, provided him with more tangible things and emotional support. I believe they thought my day would come, but it never did seem to come with them. Bill needed this and Bill needed that. Dr. Metzler listened. Sometimes re-living it all, whether it was my childhood or with Boda, Id nd myself on my feet pacing, trying to vent the rage. Did you ever tell your parents or Bill how you felt? Maybe if you had, it wouldnt have been so necessary to take on Boda and all the injustice aboard ship? I was digesting that when Metzler said we could talk about it some more next week. Often the hour ew by. 242
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ust nding the right person in the Navy to talk to about my Sea Power invention necessitated several trips to Washington, D.C. The Navy gave me the feeling they could get along without me very well. But I persisted. Whenever I was in D.C. I never failed to drop by a large Army-Navy outlet store in the northeast section. This was in an older part of D.C. and a far cry from the immaculate area surrounding the government buildings. It had rained earlier, but not enough to clean the sidewalks, which bore the debris of our society. Part of yesterdays soggy newspaper, yesterdays former yellow yer, a Black Jack chewing gum wrapper and other stuff littered the cracked pavement. The wet sidewalk and brackish water in the gutter carrying along cigarette butts and wadded cellophane reected neon from the shop windows. Behind the windows, which hadnt been cleaned in months, and even in the doorways, were displays of cheap watches, gloves, belts, kewpie dolls, some 243
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angelic, some that looked like Betty Boop. It was a natural setting for the mixed bag of pedestrians who moved in opposite directions, probably without destinations. I was probably shopping for some cut-rate material for my work my inventions. The Army-Navy stores, in addition to pup tents, Kenit watch caps, boots and O.D. overcoats, also sold an assortment of goods theyd bought off the docks crated and sight unseen. I could pick up dials, pressure gauges, mercury switches, copper wire, batteries, tools, etc. The military was still unloading unused war material. One heard about getting brand-new Jeeps for $150, but I never ran into anyone who actually bought one. Oh, and I rarely said I was an inventor, because that invariably led to the next question: What did you invent? or What are you working on now? Like I was about to tell them. If I was at a party and some drunken stranger persisted, Id swear him to secrecy and then tell him I was building a better mousetrap. On a cocktail napkin Id draw a Rube Goldberg contraption complete with a guillotine that would not only trap the mouse but would behead it. The trap would then automatically discard the torso of the mouse, leaving just the head so the owner could mount it if he so chose. Im sure my condante was sobering up by this time and desperately in need of another drink. 244
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If Alberta caught my eye from across the room shed shake her head in reprimand but a Mona Lisa smile would touch the corners of that beautiful mouth. What a wonderful partner. After the demonstration, I would ceremoniously burn the diagram and renew the guys pledge. I told the guy I had probably been rash in showing him these plans, but I trusted him. Remember, not your wife, not your neighbors, not your cat. I touched my forenger to my lips. If I can build one that works on rats, the Army will take all I can produce. But I digress. I was putting coins in the meter when a gruff but familiar voice called, No wooden nickels, cunt, or its 30 days in the brig. That could only be Gatch. I looked to my left to see a large man in a dark suit exiting a black sedan. His stomach protruded some and his nose was redder, but it was Gatch. We closed and shook hands, then he grabbed me in a bear hug. Its okay now, he said as he released me. These are the Fifties. I always wanted to do that. Yeah, me too, I said dryly. Im glad you didnt try it on the Tyler, or wed have been strung up from the highest yardarm in Pearl. We studied each other. Whatre you, a cop or an undertaker? I asked. Detective, Vice. Look, my moneys no good around here, you got time for a beer? 245
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Sounds great. We had a lot of catching up to do. Gatch moved like a dreadnought down the
street and pedestrians parted like the sea. Those in doorways moved on. Gatch was obviously someone to be reckoned with in this neighborhood. I walked at his side to a joint with painted-out windows and neon beer signs. The inside smelled of stale beer and stale smoke. As we swung our legs over the stools, a guy and a blonde abandoned their drinks and decided to continue their negotiations outside. Youre not very popular around here, I observed. Theyve all got something to hide. I come around once a day. A little show of force, keeps the lid on. The bartender put a frosted mug of beer in front of Gatch and turned to me. Looks good, I said. Gatch waited until my mug appeared and we each made a slight gesture of a toast. The beers kept coming before their predecessors were empty. I told Gatch about the Smoke Detector Tester and my move to Malibu, and I told him I was working on this idea of friction-generated power for ships. His expression said, Not bad. He was impressed. You marry that girl? Sure did. One boy and a duck in the oven. Smartest thing I ever did. The only smart thing you ever did, said Gatch. 246
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What about yourself? Ive got a place near Dupont Circle, said Gatch, and once in a while I get a little action. He said hed gone home and had a sit-down with his wife, Helen, all very civilized. She said she really loved this guy and he loved her, and he was kind and gentle and the sex was good. Can you imagine that? Like I really needed to hear that. Maybe she thought she was justifying the Dear John or something. Women are tough tougher than men, a lot tougher. There was nothing I could add. We wondered if anyone would go to the trouble of getting up a reunion of the Tylers crew. A lot of ships were doing it. I said if it did happen, I didnt think Id attend. Let sleeping dogs lie. It wouldnt be good for me. How are you doing? Gatch asked, studying my face. I mean, seriously? Im seeing a psychologist twice a week, if thats a clue. Im told Im still packing a lot of baggage, and since were getting serious, Tom, Id like to say thanks. We both know I wouldnt be having this beer if it werent for you. Youre fucking-A right about that, he answered. That covered it. I dropped the subject. Look, weve both been ignoring it like a fart at the vicars tea, but what the hell happened to Boda? I thought you knew, said Gatch. Hes Captain of the Potomac. 247
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The name sounded familiar, but I couldnt get a x on what ship it was. A destroyer? A mine sweeper? Gatch saw my struggle. The Potomac. The Presidential yacht, he said. I was part of an escort t a k i n g T r u m a n a b o a r d , a n d t h e r e h e w a s, in all his glory, white shoes and all. Good afternoon, Mr. President. Welcome aboard. Were going to have smooth sailing today. He had his nose in there so far you couldnt see his ears. Hes an Admiral now. That motherfucking son of a bitch! I shouted, sweeping my half-empty beer mug off the bar. It was him! Gatch raised a staying hand to the bartender and studied me. I sat there, my chest heaving. Maybe you ought to consider three times a week, he said. Another beer appeared before me. We sat there in silence. This was beyond Gatchs ken. He couldnt bail me out of this. I saw him steal a quick glance at his watch. Then he eased off the stool. You take it easy, now, Leon. It was an admonishment not to let my temper get me in trouble. It was also the rst time hed ever called me by my real name. Well, if I ever get out to La-La Land... Bye, Tom. We shook hands, both thinking we would never see each other again. 248
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ack home, I told Alberta about running into Gatch in D.C. I did not tell her about losing it in the beer joint. It would hurt her and disappoint her. Shed say, Oh, Lee, you didnt, and her pain would be clear in her voice. Alberta clung to the hope that the anger was dissipating, but I knew it was only partially smothered by the medication, the therapy and a comparatively tranquil life. Alberta was a blithe spirit naturally, but I knew that much of her joie de vivre was for my benet, like trying to distract a child with a skinned knee. I concentrated on the prototype and made test runs in our swimming pool. My prototype, an oddlyshaped craft, designed primarily to prove my theory, moved steadily through the chlorinated water. I walked alongside, watching it intently for the lights that would tell me it was working. One light ickered, the other two showed no life. The craft butted up against the end of the pool and stopped. Want some iced tea? Alberta called. 249
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I didnt answer, but picked the boat out of the water and carried it toward the umbrella table. Alberta served the tea in tall glasses designed for iced tea. She knew I liked lemon and sugar and how much, and the drink was waiting when I put the wet prototype on the glass table top and dropped into the wicker chair. It looked good, Honey, she said. Its a nice toy boat, but the LEDs didnt come on. The Leds? Light Emitting Diode. Of course. How stupid of me. I took a couple of gulps of the tea and explained with little enthusiasm that the LEDs were the only way of knowing if the friction of the water against the bow was generating enough energy to propel the boat on its own. Alberta assured me it would. With Gods help it would happen. I didnt answer. I stared morosely across our beautiful backyard. I heard Alberta talking about a hummingbird and a yellow-breasted nch, and I thought about Perry and the Navy and Boda, the fat cat aboard the Potomac. Boda was never completely out of my mind. I noticed Alberta shift uneasily in her chair. You okay? Tired. Metzler says the reason Im so dogged about 250
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this is that if I can bring it off, Im the new Admiral Rickover and Bodas on a rust bucket somewhere on the equator. Only problem is, Bodas Captain of the Presidential yacht. Forget Boda, Lee. If the best revenge is living well youve already brought it off. Look at us. She gestured toward the beautiful grounds. Its not enough. He killed Templewood and two good men needlessly. And, trying to kill me, he cost the lives of two Marines on the beach. They might be home now... its not enough. It was after 12 in my study, where I was every night, sometimes till three or four. It was back to the old drawing board indeed, literally and guratively. I had considered some kind of scoop on the prototypes bow but my calculations showed that any such design would create too much resistance and defeat the purpose. I ripped the whole page off the board and started a revised design. Alberta tapped lightly on the door and opened it. Maybe if you sleep on it, she offered. Let the subconscious help. Ill be up in a minute. She closed the door and I heard her mount the stairs slowly. I began jotting down gures from my slide rule and tried to ignore the familiar voices ltering through. 251
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... An ofcer and a gentleman... all that in 90 days. My, my... Oh, a tough guy, eh?... What the hells the matter with you, Cooper?... You dont approve of my sentence?... What we dont need on this ship is a smart ass Ensign... The order came from me, Cooper, any questions?... I shook the voices off and with a parallel bars started drawing tentative lines on the graph paper, but the voices continued to bleed through. Not only Bodas but others: Hes had it, sir. And the sailor on the deck that gray morning when Templewood was dropped into the sea. Say goodbye. But mostly it was Boda. What the fuck are you doing up here, Templewood? And then cackling, Itll get em combat ready... And then shouting, Mr. Cooper doesnt need any help going up the net. Get to your stations! And then, The Navy doesnt put much stock in the ramblings of a malcontent ofcer, Cooper. And Gatchs voice, The Potomac. The Presidential yacht. Hes an Admiral! Somebody ripped the sheet of graph paper from the drawing board and somebodys foot sent the whole board and stand ying across the room. I was standing amid the wreckage when I realized I had caused the damage. I went upstairs and undressed quietly in the dark so as not to wake Alberta. She moved slightly, probably to let me know she was awake. I eased 252
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myself into bed, leaned over her and whispered, Love you. A faint, husky whisper came back, Love you, too. She was awake but sleepy, maybe now was a better time than morning. I have to go back to Washington. Will be you alright? She turned and opened her eyes. Yes... Why? They have data back there that I need. I turned away from her in bed, uncomfortable with my lie. I didnt know if Albertas eyes were open or not. I sensed they were. She always knew when I was lying.
I stared at my reection in the hotel mirror. Lieutenant Senior Grade Cooper stared back at me. The uniform was a little snug but nothing obvious. I didnt even know the name of the hotel. It wasnt the Mayower. I wouldnt use our hotel as a base for this operation. It was after 12 Washington time. Shes still be up. I took two deep breaths and called her. Hi, Hon. What you doing? She said she was doing laundry, putting away some clothes. I just wanted to be able to see you. 253
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Thats sweet. I look gorgeous. I dyed my hair red. She never lost her sense of humor. Youre up late? she said probingly, then asked Where are you staying? I told her. Couldnt sleep. Im going to go out and get a paper. How are you feeling? The blithe spirit said she felt ne. That she was actually feeling better. And Pete? Hes ne, Lee. Is everything alright? Alberta, I love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I literally dont know what Id do without you. I will always love you. She said that was beautiful and she wished I was there. She said she loved me too. And she hoped I slept well. And we hung up. I sat there a moment, then I crossed the room to the bureau. I picked up my .45 Colt semi-automatic and shoved it in my waistband. Returning to the mirror, I studied the overall effect. It should get by in the dark. Alberta looked at the clock on the night stand. Nine-thirty-eight California time. Troubled, she picked up some freshly ironed shirts from the back of a chair and carried them to the walk-in closet where she hung them on her husbands side. She flipped off the closet light, then stopped and turned the light back on again and moved 254
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closer to the plastic garment bag. The zipper was partially open. She opened it further and examined the contents. Her husbands dress blue uniform was there, but the khaki uniform was missing. Alberta searched frantically through the other garments, her fear mounting. Her eyes focused on the shoe box on the top shelf, and she stared at it for half a minute, afraid to open it. Finally she touched it and it moved. It was empty. Hands trembling, she opened it and conrmed her fears. There was a half-empty box of ammunition clips, but that was all. Alberta hurried to the bedroom phone and dialed. Leon Coopers room, please. She waited and nally a voice said, There is no answer in that room. For a moment Alberta stood there engulfed in a terrible feeling of helplessness. She knew she had to do something. Though Alberta was not by nature an assertive person, neither was she one to wring her hands in an emergency. She took whatever action she thought best. She dialed 411. Washington, D.C. The police department... I dont know what precinct. Any precinct. Information gave her a number which she dialed, but the male voice on the other end was so businesslike and unfeeling that she hung up and raced downstairs, oblivious to the pain that had slowed her these past months. 255
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Moments later, Alberta was rummaging through the drawers of her husbands desk. The drafting table had been righted, but a broken leg supported it at an angle. There were bills, receipts, paper clips, designs under consideration. In the back of the deep bottom right drawer, she found two pint bottles, one empty, one half-lled with Dewars. Alberta also came up with what she sought, 20 or 30 calling cards held together with a rubber band. A l b e r t a k n e w w h a t s h e wa s l o o k i n g f o r. She ripped off the rubber band and ried through the cards. There it was: Thomas Gatch, Washington, D.C. Police Vice. On the back she found the home phone number and dialed. Mr. Gatch? Alberta said into the phone. ... Im sorry to disturb you. Im Leon Coopers wife... Yes, thank you. Same here. Mr. Gatch, Im afraid Lee is going to do something kind of crazy... something terrible.
The Presidential yacht, the Potomac, was treated like a Washington monument, with discreetly positioned lights softly illuminating its stately, if slightly dated, lines. It loomed up as I turned into the parking area. I reasoned that a bold approach would suit my purposes best and I took the parking 256
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spot closest to the guard station, piled out and walked condently toward the Marine Corporal. He called Halt! but I continued on like I owned the place. Following procedure, he then called, Advance and be recognized, which was unnecessary because I was already advancing. Evening, Corporal, you new here? Three months, sir. Can I help you? Im here to see Admiral Boda. The Marine looked at his blank clipboard. Theres no visitors on the list for tonight, sir. I laughed. This is hardly an ofcial visit, Corporal. Boda and I are old shipmates and drinking buddies. Guess he got mellowed out on Pursers rum and wanted to talk bout the good ol days. Woke me out of a sound sleep. Pursers rum is his favorite. Did you know that? No, sir. Shit, we drank it with Coke or coconut milk. Sometimes we just passed the jug back n forth. Of course, he wasnt an Admiral then. The Marine guard studied the blank paper on his clipboard. I dont know, sir. My orders... I didnt want him to get too involved in orders and kept him off-balance. Trouble with Boda is, he puts away too much a that stuff, he gets mean. I guess I could call up there, said the Marine 257
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uncertainly. I shook my head indicating that I was concerned for his welfare. Corporal, if youve had this cushy job for a while, you know that if you make waves for Admiral Boda, he can ream you a new asshole in short order. There are times in this life, Corporal, when you do it by the numbers, and theres times when you gotta use common sense. Now, I dont think you need a new asshole, do you? What you need is another stripe, and I can look into that Sergeant. I guess Sergeant sounded pretty good to the Corporal and he said, Well, okay. Whats your name, sir? Lieutenant Leslie S. Templewood the Third. The S is for Smigly. No E. The guard started writing. He must have been impressed with that name and offered to call up and get me an escort. I assured him that wasnt necessary. I knew my way. This wasnt the rst time the Admiral had sent for me. ... You dont say no to an Admiral when he calls, no matter how late. Right, Sergeant? Yes, sir. I started up the accommodation ladder rather enjoying the moment. That would be poetic justice; shoot the fuckers brains out in the name of Leslie S. Templewood the Third.
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The streets were damp from mist and the unmarked D.C. police car skidded and almost hit the far curb as it took the corner. Inside, Lt. Gatch was muttering his usual epithet, Stupid cunt. There was no stealth about Gatchs approach. When he reached the Potomac parking area, he was doing 40. He swung the unmarked police car onto the dock and hit the brakes. The sedan skidded and approached the guard sideways before coming to a stop about twenty feet from the startled Marine. This was turning into a memorable shift for the Corporal. Gatch was out of the car and racing toward the Marine who was barely able to get out a high-pitched challenge before Gatch was upon him, ashing a badge. Police! Did a Lieutenant Cooper come aboard tonight? After yet another reassuring glance at his clipboard, the guard said no. The tension noticeably left Gatch. Mind if I wait here a bit? No, sir, the Marine swallowed. Gatch returned to the car and lit a cigarette.
I had no idea what the layout was on the Potomac. Guessing, I moved along the main deck 259
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toward one of the teak and brass doors that had to be an entrance to the sleeping quarters. I had my hand on the knob when it opened toward me. I attened myself against the bulkhead. I chose the right side of the door. A Lieutenant Senior Grade emerged carrying the traditional steaming mug of coffee. This had to be the OOD. He turned right and went aft toward the accommodation ladder. If I brought this off there was one Lieutenant who was going to be passed over for promotion. I watched him a moment, then slipped quietly through the door. The interior was all teak or mahogany polished along with the brass. I made a decision and started down one of the passageways. There would undoubtedly be a name on the door.
In the parking area, Gatch stubbed out his cigarette and rechecked his watch, then glanced again at the stem winder railroad watch given him by his father. He also checked the parked rental car again. Gatch was puzzled. It would not take Cooper this long to get here from his hotel. He called out the car window to the Marine guard. Anybody else come aboard this evening? Just a friend of the Admiral. Gatch started to settle back, then his police 260
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instincts took over. What was his name? The Marine referred once more to his clipboard. Leslie Smigly Templewood the Third. Son of a bitch! Gatch piled out of the car and charged for the ladder, shouting at the Marine en route, Friend, shit hes going to kill the bastard! Sir! shouted the Marine. This situation had not been covered in basic training. The Marine stared uncertainly as Gatch took the stairs of the accommodation ladder two at a time. The guard then moved to the phone.
On deck, the OOD, startled by the noise and the ringing phone, attempted to rest the coffee mug on the beveled railing, scalding his hand when it slipped. He reached the accommodation ladder just as Gatch arrived on deck. Im sorry, sir, said the OOD. Do you have permission to come aboard? Will you can that shit?! Theres a moron here thats going to kill Boda. Where the hells his cabin? I think youre mistaken, sir. Youll have to wait here and Ill His statement was cut short when Gatch charged off, followed by the protesting OOD. I moved along the richly carpeted corridor looking 261
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for Bodas stateroom. The doors were wider and more impressive here. There was the Presidential Seal. It should be around here somewhere. As I freed the .45, I could hear running footsteps. There it was, Admiral Joseph Boda, U.S.N. I rapped on the door with the muzzle of the gun and recognized Bodas sleepy voice. Yeah, who is it? Officer of the Deck, I replied. Theres a problem, sir. The sound of the footsteps was coming closer. Open the door. Open the fucking door. And then it opened. Boda stood there in pajamas. He looked puzzled but he apparently didnt recognize me. I quickly cleared that up. I put the muzzle of the .45 inches from his face and bit out, You sadistic prick, this ones for Templewood I was so intent on watching Boda and letting him know why he was being killed, Id ignored the racing footsteps. I heard my name shouted, then felt Gatchs shoulder in my side. As I went down, I saw the door closing and got off two rounds into the mahogany before I was sandwiched between the oor and Gatch. I heard Gatchs voice as he lifted his weight awkwardly off of me. There you are. Everythings under control. Being attened under Gatchs 200 plus pounds 262
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had knocked the breath from me and stunned me, and I was not quick to move. Gatch removed the gun from my hand and I saw the door with the two holes in it slowly open and Bodas face peer out. Reassured that all was under control, Boda opened the door wider and recognized Gatch. What the hell! Gatch? Are you in this? Im with the D.C. police, and frankly, Im sorry I got here when I did. The world would be a better place without you. Well, Im here, snarled Boda, reverting to his old self. And the world can go fuck itself. And I want this man prosecuted for attempted murder. Gatch was pulling me to my feet. You press charges, Boda, and therell be a lot of dirty laundry hanging out there. That must have given Boda pause because the next thing I heard was a command to the OOD. Throw this trash overboard. When the OOD moved toward me, Gatch raised a staying hand. Ill handle it, he said. The OOD was not getting further involved. Gatch pulled me to my feet and guided me down the corridor.
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felt like an errant student sitting in the Principals ofce as I waited for Dr. Metzler to respond. I had just nished telling him about the incident aboard the Potomac. Maybe hed heard it all from his patients, but I think he was taken aback by my tale. Finally, he spoke. You could be sitting somewhere else right now you realize that? I nodded that I did. In this business we dont say I told you so, but I told you something like this could happen. I remember. I didnt believe you. People better off than you have been hospitalized for less. Are you taking the lithium? Alberta puts it out with my cornakes. Then again at night. But it doesnt get the son of a bitch out of my head. Metzler didnt reply immediately. He rose and started xing himself a cup of tea with a machine that dispensed both hot and cold water. He dunked 265
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the Constant Comment tea bag several times, dropped it into the wastebasket and carried the cup back to his chair. Its Boda. But its not all Boda. You might have come out of the service okay, but you went in there with problems you didnt know you had. You were the helpless victim at home with your big brother, and you became the helpless victim on shipboard where you ran afoul of Boda. That was too much. He sipped the tea, which was obviously hot, then set it aside. Can you just accept that the world is not fair?... Some guys get the money, some guys get the looks and the girls. Some guys get bald. It aint always fair, but youve got to accept that and move on. And some guys become Admirals aboard the Potomac , I said. I wouldnt begrudge that to some nice guy even a prick. But not Boda. Thats not right. He asked me how the prototype was coming probably to get Boda out of my head and I told him. He seemed to grasp the concept and asked the right questions and soon the time was up. We both rose. Leon, do you ever get any fun out of life like Las Vegas, a weekend at the Mark Hopkins? Im sure Alberta would love it. And it would be good for you. I agreed that it was probably a good idea. 266
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Soon as I nished the prototype and got it working, Id run it past Alberta. Just do it, Leon, now. You need it, urged Metzler. I nodded and he told me that if I found myself sticking pins in little Admirals, to give him a call, at home if necessary.
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fter moving to California I took advantage of the GI Bill and enrolled as a student at Cal Tech. I wanted to get my Masters in Mechanical Engineering, guring that it would serve as both a refresher course of my undergraduate studies and give me a leg up on other WWII vets in this specialty. I was particularly interested in hydraulics. I had been kicking an idea around in my head ever since I rst saw refueling operations at sea for the Tyler. I thought at the time, here is all that power pent up in the form of friction as the ship makes its way in the sea. The more I thought about it the more the idea began to take shape in the form of a series of problems involving the principles of hydraulics, thermodynamics and electrodynamics. A ships movement in the sea generates friction. Friction can be converted to energy. Some coefcient of energy becomes electricity when introduced into a special turbine-piston mechanism, which then turns the screws of the ship, pushing the ship 269
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through the sea. A never-ending source of power, the long sought perpetual motion machine, really. All you had to do was get the ship underway with conventional power, like diesel oil, and then nature takes over. My masters thesis was Sea Power, which I wrote with the help of a professor who was thoroughly grounded in all of the engineering disciplines involved here. Finally, using recognized engineering design principles, I was able to prove that it was feasible to design a power train that would drive any type of ship by simply correlating the size of the ship, including its tonnage, draft and related physical characteristics, to the turbine-piston complex needed for that particular ship. In my thesis I had conceptualized a master template for all ships. A mathematical table look up gave the answers to the question: What kind of turbine system is required? All you had to do was enter the physical data for the ship and out came the answer. I had even gone so far in my thesis to outline the tooling that could be adapted for various sizes and types of ships. To prove the practicality of my concept I developed a prototype that worked. The model I developed made provision, in adjustable sides, for different hull congurations this so that various friction coefcients could be derived and calculated. The prototype drawing and specs 270
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were included in a patent application prepared by Nathan Epstein, my patent attorney. A patent was granted after a year. I was now the proud owner of a patent for a product that would radically overhaul the way the worlds ships were powered. The US Navy, which had more ships than any other organization, was my obvious marketing target. After struggling my way through the Navys bureaucratic thickets, I nally was able to reach the procurement branch and the head man himself, a Navy four-striper, Captain Robert Perry, USN Annapolis, that is who I was pretty sure was the key decision maker. Id shared all this information with Alberta, who was just as enthusiastic as I, but being the realist, she knew I could screw up my presentation with my short fuse, combined with my residual contempt for the Navy. Also, unlike me, Alberta had learned the practical lessons of living always prepare for the worst. Never assume you have it made until the check clears the bank. Captain Perry in D.C. expressed curiosity more than anything else in response to my letter. Yes, he would see me, and he gave me a date. In high excitement I told Alberta, and she booked a ight and hotel reservations for me. I know youll do great, Lee, but just dont build yourself up. That worried look on her face told me something else she didnt have to put it in words Dont lose 271
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your temper. And especially dont let Perry know how you feel about the Navy. I was to call Perrys ofce when I got in town, and I would be given details regarding the time and place of the meeting which would be at the David Taylor Model Basin in nearby Maryland, Perrys secretary told me, and I was to be sure and bring the prototype. The model facility has specially designed tanks that are used to test different types of ship hulls, she explained thats why that facility was selected as the meeting place. Finally, she told me, it had to be exactly at 1600 hours. Whats so important about exactly 1600 hours? Its the damned Navy again. I could see Albertas face darken as I hung up the phone. She knew me better than I knew myself. But I assured her everything was under control. I arrived at the Taylor Model Basin at 1400 hours so I could familiarize myself with the facility and make sure that there would be no problem with the prototype. The Naval ofcer in charge said he had been advised of my coming, and would be happy to explain how the equipment worked, especially the controls that activated the currents for the several model tanks in the facility. I tried the controls in one of the tanks. The prototype worked beautifully as I ipped through the controls for several different current 272
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speeds. What could possibly go wrong? I looked at my watch it was exactly 1600 hours and no Perry. The old waiting game. I felt my blood pressure starting to rise. Presently, I heard footsteps coming down the corridor. Perry and two other ofcers appeared a Lieutenant Junior Grade and an Admiral. We greeted each other, I brought my right hand part way up to my head, almost in a salute, then stopped self-consciously and shook hands with the three instead. Good afternoon, gentlemen, I said and started the spiel Id rehearsed before the mirror many times. Its very kind of you to take the time to listen to me and then allow me to demonstrate that the friction, caused by a ship pushing through the sea, can be converted to energy, energy that will in turn power the ship and continue to propel it through the water. Frankly, Mr. Cooper, Perry said, Your proposal, your, ah invention... His gesture and groping for the right word were already minimizing my cause. ... is so radical that I have serious misgivings about our purpose here. Those same sentiments prevailed when Fulton proposed the steamboat, I replied. The Admiral smiled, but Perry did not. I softened it with a smile also, but I knew the damage was done. We hadnt been together two minutes and already 273
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Id given Perry a putdown. Alberta was right. During my preliminary tests earlier in the tank my prototype had performed perfectly when it was underway against the current at all speeds. It did, however, seem a little sluggish getting started under battery power. This puzzled me because those were new batteries that I had put in that morning. Id been working with the prototype when Captain Perry, Admiral Hunter and the JG entered, and I had quickly stopped working the controls to greet the three ofcers. Now, as we made some polite small talk, some of it designed to probe my background, where Id studied, the origin of the concept, my service, etc., I noticed my prototype pressed against the side of the tank, in the still water. The batteries were still on. That made me nervous, but I didnt feel I could excuse myself from these men at this time and remedy the situation. Perry, probably still smarting from the Fulton remark, said, You mentioned in your letter, Mr. Cooper, that your concept was perpetual motion. Thats contrary to any principles of physics Im familiar with. I believe I said, virtual perpetual motion in my letter, Captain Perry. Ships would still need conventional fuel to get them underway and then my product, Sea Power, would begin to take over. Our ships are getting faster and more fuel 274
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efcient with every new design, offered Perry. And, of course, atomic power is on the horizon. God, it was like dueling with Boda again. Keep cool, Cooper. But atomic power is not practical for all Naval vessels. Im sure youll agree to that. I presume Billy Mitchell and Admiral Rickover had to go through these same hoops. I added a chuckle, but nobody else joined me. I had cast an aspersion at the whole fucking hide-bound Navy who in the past had presented a united front against these visionaries. Admiral Hunter broke the silence when he said, L e t s h a v e a l o o k a t w h a t y o u h a v e h e r e, Mr. Cooper. His attitude was no longer friendly. The three ofcers moved to vantage points around the tank while I stood at the control panel. It doesnt look like a ship, said Perry. At least not like any Ive ever seen. Perry felt more comfortable now taking his shots at me. And it doesnt look like a desk, either, I muttered, taking a jab at his land-bound Naval career. Using the controls, I tried to back the prototype away from the side of the tank. It wouldnt move. I heard a sigh from Perry. The JG suggested I use the pole to get it into open water, which I did. The prototype still didnt respond. It would not move even when I dialed the battery switch up to 275
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high. I tried to make light of it by saying it was working just ne a few minutes before. I think its the batteries. I got the damn things from an ArmyNavy store and theyve probably been in warehouses or a jungle somewhere for years and theyve lost their juice. They were just out of the package this morning. I was sure they were fresh so I dont have any others. I patted my pockets. Perry patted his pockets also and said he didnt bring any extras today, either. Very funny. I must have been a pathetic gure trying to salvage something out of this disaster. I looked to the ofcer who had helped me earlier. He shook his head. There were no batteries on the premises. You saw it working earlier, didnt you? I said to the ofcer in charge of the model basin. Hunter, Perry and the JG looked at him also. As Gatch had said on the bridge that evening, When it comes to choosing up sides between you and the Navy, Im going with the big guy. This ofcer knew where his bread was buttered and it wasnt on my side. I really wasnt paying much attention, he said lamely. Maybe I should have brought along a goddamn blackboard! I shouted. There was silence in the cavernous structure. Perry checked his watch and said to the Admiral 276
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softly, You have that appointment with the Senate Committee. The Admiral nodded and turned to me. I have other appointments, Mr. Cooper, so Ill have to leave. Im sorry your demonstration wasnt more successful. He sounded sincere. There were no handshakes. The trio turned and headed for the door. Like they say, I shouted after them with mounting intensity, Theres the right way, the wrong way and the fucking Navy way, where a bunch of hide-bound bureaucrats are so wrapped up in their own self-importance theyll let a couple of ten-cent batteries keep them from saving the country millions billions of dollars! Assholes! The JG closed the door quietly behind them. I looked at the ofcer in charge of the facility who lowered his eyes. I stood there, my prototype and I both dead in the water. I wondered how I would explain this to Alberta who had been so excited over the prospects.
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here was a delicatessen on the ground oor of the building where I saw Dr. Metzler. It was an excellent location and got customers from the street as well as the building. Lately, I had been stopping there after seeing Dr. Metzler for a corned beef or a turkey sandwich and Id take it home to Alberta. Wed split it. She wasnt well, and I tried to take things home that were tasty to eat. This one afternoon a man about my own age entered the deli ahead of me. He even held the door for me. I stood behind him studying the menu on the wall I should have had it memorized by this time. The hostess approached with a clipboard and a professional smile. The guy ahead of me said, Boda, one, and she led him to a table. As I waited for my order I kept glancing at the guy. It could be. He was 30 or so pounds heavier, but that happens. He looked the right age. I paid for the soup and sandwich and took one last look at the guy and found him looking at me. A bundle of thoughts ashed 279
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through my mind: If it is the same Boda who came aboard that day, would Metzler approve of my talking with him? Would it be riling the waters? Would it undo our progress in my anger management? What the hell, it probably wasnt him anyway and Ill worry if I dont. I walked to his table. Excuse me. Did you serve in the Pacic? He said he did. Was his father Captain of the John Tyler? Boda wasnt so quick to answer this time. A little later I would learn why. He studied my face, apparently wondering who I was. His answer was a belated, guarded yes. I served under him on the Tyler. You poor son of a bitch, he said. A kindred soul. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He was Joseph Boda, Jr. I touched the back of the chair facing him and asked if I could sit down just for a minute. His gesture said help yourself, and I sat. My heart was starting to pound, but I was making a concerted effort to keep it casual. Dr. Metzler would denitely not approve of this. Fuck im, I needed this. I could feel the adrenaline starting to ow. I was the OOD the day you came aboard, I said. Somehow Ill never forget that scene. What was that all about, if Im not getting too personal? 280
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Boda blew air through his lips like a tired horse, obviously wondering whether or not to get into it. There was a long pause and then he said, I was a Striker Yeoman First on board the USS Schuyler and had access to the names of the ships in our support group the Captains and Execs. When I saw there was a Joseph Boda on the Tyler I gured it had to be him. Another sigh. I hadnt talked to him in 15 years. Actually, I didnt really want to see the bastard or know anything about him. But this was such a happenstance being there, the war who gets killed and who doesnt that I thought, whats to lose? Ill go aboard and bury the you know, just say hi. He turned his palms upward. The rest you know. Boda seemed philosophical about it all. But I felt a lot had been left unsaid. I didnt press it. I guess Id learned through my sessions with Metzler to let the silence lay. Let the silence be the pressure. I had almost given up when he said, I hadnt seen him since I was thirteen, when I ran away from home. Thirteen! Wow! I exclaimed, goading him on. What, did you live with relatives? Boda shook his head and said he was on his own. I stole a glance at my watch. Alberta would be expecting me soon. But shed understand when I told her about this encounter. Or should I even 281
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tell her? Maybe not. God knows I thought about bailing plenty of times on the Tyler, I said. But we both know the Navy is not very indulgent about that sort of thing. Boda managed a comradely smile. He said he got jobs working on farms way out in the boondocks. If anyone got nosy, hed move on. It got grim at times but anything was better than living with him. I watched and waited as he took several bites of his chipped beef on toast and scrambled eggs. Powdered just like old times, I thought SOS without the eggs we were often served aboard ship. Finally he said, Im not sure Id be alive if I hadnt taken off. Theres something big going to take place here, Cooper. As Alberta would have said, God made you come over and talk to this guy. Just dont blow it. People like to get things off their chest, remember? You learned that as the J.A.G. Ill be damned, I said. You mean hed get violent? He gave a sardonic chuckle, and looked up at me. Are we talking about the same Joe Boda? I recovered as best I could. Well you know, the Navys one thing civilian life is something else again. Not with him. They dont keep a log book i n h i s h ouse. Damn right hed get violent. He murdered Rosalie. 282
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Dont say anything, Cooper. Hes on a roll here. But Boda splashed catsup on his plate and continued eating. Apparently nothing more was forthcoming. He glanced at his watch. Maybe it was a signal for me to leave. I think spousal abuse is one of the worst things there is, I probed. Boda shook his head, a little impatient with me. He knocked my mother around alright. But she died giving birth to Rosalie. Just come out and say it, Cooper. Stop pussyfooting around. Captain Boda, your dad, killed your sister? He didnt throw her in a well or hit her with an axe or anything. But he shook her to death. I was there. Shed soiled her pants, and he shook her and shouted, Dont you ever do that again! Do you hear me? I remember her head whipping back and forth like it was on a spring. She wasnt crying anymore and he sort of half threw her, half dropped her against the wall. Her head slumped over to the side. Her eyes were closed. I told him I thought she was hurt. Maybe I should call an ambulance. No! he shouted at me. No ambulance. Shell be alright. You go to your room. Boda ate some more without looking up. I waited. Finally he started talking again. That night, from my bedroom window, I watched him bury her in 283
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the backyard. That would have been the end of his Naval career killing your two-year-old daughter. He claimed shed been kidnapped. He even had iers put out, Rosalie Boda, age 2, missing. Have you seen this girl? The neighbors formed search parties for weeks. I still have one of the iers. Its the only picture I have of her. He fought to hold back tears and failed.
The house smelled wonderful when I got home. The source was three freshly-baked pies cooling on the sink. I inspected them more closely. Dont even smell them, said Alberta as she came from her sewing room. Theyre for the church fund-raiser. She let me suffer a while, then said there was a pecan in the oven for me. Thank you, I said. You shouldnt be doing all this, Alberta. Im sorry. Did you want to bake them? My answer was a peck on her cheek. She liked to yank my chain sometimes. I saw her glance at the oven clock, but she said nothing about my tardiness. We took our seats at the kitchen table and I divided the food from the deli. I dont remember ordering this, I said as I pulled a white rose from the bottom of the bag. 284
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Youre going to get arrested one day for kiping owers, but thank you. Alberta was still sipping her chicken soup and I was well into my sandwich when she said, Something big happen today at Dr. Metzlers? No, not really. Same old stuff. You seem wired. I immediately started chewing more slowly. Alberta and I were very honest with each other, but I didnt want to tell her about my meeting with Boda Junior and our plan to drive to San Diego the next day. I just sensed that shed discourage my delving into this Boda thing. My demeanor and behavior were vastly improved lately, thanks I guess, to my talks with Metzler. But I didnt want the wind taken out of my sails right now. I was the duck after the June bug. I was the predator, Boda the prey. If shed said, Did you meet someone? Id have answered, Yes. If shed said, Who? Id have said, Joe Boda, Jr. But she didnt ask. It was only a lie of omission and nothing unusual had happened with Metzler. I discouraged further questions by saying I had work to do. I took my dishes to the sink and left the room feeling Albertas eyes on me all the time.
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Joe Boda, Jr. and I drove down Interstate 405 toward San Diego. I was driving; Boda was sitting in silence. Trafc was light. Broken clouds drifted overhead and the temperature was in the 70s. No wonder everyone comes to California, I said. I didnt want him going into blue funk and changing his mind. Boda didnt pick up on the small talk. Joe, if youre worried about any of this, Im happy to forget it. I dont want to make things any tougher on you. He said he wasnt worried about himself. He was thirteen at the time and had been scared shitless. How about your family? Im gay. I didnt know it at the time, but I think he did. Thats why he made me play Pop Warner and got me erector sets and .22 ries for Christmas. God, I hated killing rabbits. Poor things. Little cotton tails, just sitting there wide-eyed. Bam! Goodbye. As if killing rabbits was going to change anything. I picked up the missing ier of Rosalie Boda lying between us and looked at it again. She appeared to have been dressed for a party and was wearing a little sailor dress. I probably would have taken off sooner, said Boda, but I stayed around to look out for her. There was a nanny there in the day, but we were on our own at night. Even when he was home, I saw that she got to bed and brushed her teeth. 286
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The Boda house was one of those Cliff May
ranch-style homes that were so popular in California before and right after the war. Wide and one-story with heavy shake roofs. It was on an acre or more of very valuable property. One could see the ocean in the distance. It was originally all horse country, said Boda, but the property became so valuable that people started selling off parts of their land. But he kept all of his. I noticed Junior never said Dad, just he. Understandable. The two of us waited on the brick steps under the overhang. A reasonably attractive lady, probably a Navy wife, came to the door carrying a hand towel. She waited for us to speak as she nished drying her hands, an inquisitive look on her face. Good afternoon, Im Joe Boda, Jr. This is Mr. Cooper. The ladys expression became less challenging and more deferential. She obviously was Navy and knew the name Boda beyond just being her landlord. Boda said we were in the neighborhood and he wanted to show his friend his old digs. She glanced at me. I didnt care if she jumped to any conclusions or not. Boda said we wouldnt come in; she was obviously busy. But maybe we could 287
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take a look at the backyard where he used to play. The lady said, You know where it is. She added that we were welcome to come through the house or there was a gate at the side. The gate would be ne. It was awfully kind of her. Dont worry about Lorelei she likes everybody. She was obviously Navy. Anyone who would name a dog Lorelei was obviously a seafarer. Boda opened the tall wooden gate and we went single-le along the side of the house to the backyard. Lorelei, an old, long-haired, orange-colored dog waddled over to meet us. I gave her a couple of pats and followed Boda to a rather large barbecue set-up, complete with a thick cement deck. This structure was about 100 feet from the house. I abandoned the dog with a couple more pats and joined Boda on the barbecue deck. We were a safe distance from the house, but Boda nevertheless kept his voice low. He appeared to be interested in the barbecue as he talked. Then, gesticulating, he pointed out the ocean view. During all this he never looked down. I followed his lead. This patio and barbecue werent here then, said Boda. Its built like a brick shithouse. I guess he wanted to make sure no one decided to plant a tree right here. Is this where shes buried? I asked. Right under your feet. 288
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I did look down as I quickly stepped back. We surveyed the structure in general. This thing would take a direct hit from a 16 incher, I said. Boda suggested we look at the other side of the yard for a bit, thank the lady, and get the hell out of there. It gave him the creeps. Thats what we did.
We ate Big Macs in the car as we drove north. I wanted to get back home to Alberta as soon as possible. May I borrow this? I asked, indicating Rosalies ier. Ill make you a copy, Boda said. I wouldnt want anything to happen to it. His tone suggested he was having misgivings, and I again offered to let him off the hook. If you want to think about it for a while, or change your mind altogether, I understand. Were talking blood here. Dont remind me. No, Im not having any second thoughts. You do what you want. This might even get involved with civilian law. Leon, do your damnedest. If you need me for a witness, you know where to nd me. I thought that for a Navy career man, Admiral 289
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Boda was heading for deep shit. He probably deserved it for dozens of violations of Navy regs. I know he tried to kill me more than once certainly a court martial offense. Probably, other crewmen on the Tyler lost their lives because of his irresponsible commands. But it would be his own daughter who would finally do him in. Poetic justice. Boda started tidying up, squashing the wax paper from the Big Macs into the bag with the yellow arches, along with the uneaten fries. He relieved me of my scraps and added them to the bag. He rolled the top closed and placed it precisely by his feet. A neat-nick. I reached over, took the bag and tossed it in the back. We had at least an hour and a half to go and I wanted this guy to be comfortable. I owed him, big time.
I saw Albertas lips pressing into a thin line as I related what had happened earlier that day in San Diego. Yes, I decided I was going to tell Alberta. I suspected quite correctly she would not share my enthusiasm about settling scores with Admiral Boda. Thats probably why I brought a dozen roses this day. She interrupted me in mid-sentence. For Gods 290
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sake, Lee. Alberta didnt swear. When she said for Gods sake she wasnt taking the Lords name in vain. She meant do this for God, for my family... for me. Youve ruined a good part of our lives with your anger. Please dont pursue this. This isnt just for me, I argued. Its for all the men on the Tyler. I just want to see that he gets what he deserves. Lee, said Alberta testily, There was a Navy before you were born and therell be a Navy after youve gone. There are some bad apples in it, as in any organization that big. The Navy doesnt want them any more than you do. Life isnt fair, and life is short. Lets enjoy life, you and I, with whats left. It was the rst time either one of us had said anything about dying. But both of us knew, or could deduce from what her cancer doctor had told both of us. I hit for what I knew was her weak spot. The child deserves a decent burial. Lee, dont give me that. You told me that young Boda would see that she got a decent burial after his father was gone. I leapt to my feet. That could be years. Boda doesnt deserve to go on living like a fat cat. He should be court martialed and dishonorably discharged. He should be in prison on bread and 291
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water like he made those men do for nothing. Nothing! Hes getting away with murder! Look at you, said Alberta. Listen to yourself. Yo u r e r ight back where... She broke into convulsive sobs, unable to nish the sentence. When she regained control, she continued. Lee, I married you against my better judgment because I loved you. But living with you and your bitterness has not been easy. I dont believe in divorce, but Ive thought about it. At times you made life hell for me and the kids all because of this vendetta. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord not yours. For Gods sake, Lee, drop it. If you reported this youd be called back to Washington as a witness. It would rile up all your hatred again. Youd be back on those pills that made you a zombie. I wouldnt be here to be part of it, thank God, but the kids would. Please, Lee, for me, please, drop it. Promise me. I gave a barely perceptible nod, but she and I knew I had made a promise I would keep. I sat down beside her in the gathering gloom. I held her tight and kissed her. I love you... I thank God I met you. Again, Promise me? I promise, I replied, warmed by that beautiful smile. I love you with all my heart. Me, too, she said.
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remember reading somewhere that ovarian cancer is the worst kind of cancer for women. By the time the fatal diagnosis is made its too late. The malignant cells malevolent is more descriptive have already begun their rampant migration to other parts of the body, on their way to killing their host, ala the tobacco companies. If Hobson were still around, one of his questions would be, Okay, choose what kind of cancer would you like to have? Like some other cancers, it is transgenerational. Her grandmother and her aunt had died of the disease. No doubt, others of her forbearers carried this quirky gene complex in their DNA, so if an accurate record had been kept it would have shown that they, too, were earmarked for the onset of the disease. Alberta had gone to her class reunion back East and had decided to stay over with one of her former classmates for a week or so longer. I looked at her closely upon her return. Was that a swelling in her 293
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belly I hadnt noticed before? She felt fine, she assured me, but the way she said it wasnt that reassuring. Yes, she admitted nally to some discomfort, some vague ache in her stomach. Maybe she wasnt used to all that starchy food she had been eating with her old classmates. The days passed, but the discomfort persisted along with waves of nausea, including dry heaves. No, nothing was wrong we both told ourselves, more out of fear that we would indeed nd something wrong, something terribly wrong. Our family doctor came to the room where she and I waited to hear the results of his examination. The troubled look on his face said more than his words. He had made an appointment for Alberta to see an oncologist he thought highly of. She has cancer everywhere, a doctor nally said sadly to me at one of the cancer treatment centers we visited, dashing the little hope I had for her recovery. I watched her shiny skin color turn sallow. Her weight and hair was vanishing before my eyes. She needed an oxygen tank constantly, a wheelchair as well. For Heavens sake, stop it, she said to me once while I choked back some sobs as we talked. You know, youre not doing me any good, you dope, she continued, as both of us began to giggle. The visiting nurse had told me to be sure and 294
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call her if anything developed. I knew her meaning. It developed a few days later. From another bed in our bedroom, as had been suggested by the nurse, I was awakened by Alberta hyper-ventilating during the early morning hours. Call an ambulance and have her taken to the hospital, the nurse instructed me during the phone conversation, urging me to try and stay calm. I stood by her bed, holding her hand; it was damp to the touch. Honey, I said, over and over; no response. While I waited for the ambulance, racing through my mind was my recollection of the emotions I felt when I watched all those young Marines dying as I brought them in my landing craft from the battle to the hospital ship. But this was different. This was very different. This was someone I knew and loved deeply. This was someone who had been part of me for years. This was someone I would be losing forever. I would never see her again. I would never hear again that voice I knew so well. I would never again feel her soft body next to mine in bed, her breasts against my back, breathing softly her chest rising and falling, her arm around me, nor smell the perfume she liked to use. Never. Never. What would it be like? The doorbell rang. The ambulance had arrived. My youngest son, Billy, his face white with concern, 295
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had come into the bedroom as the paramedics were attempting to revive Alberta, but failing, had begun to transfer her to a stretcher. No, I couldnt go in the ambulance with her. Obviously, I had seen too many movies with the hero accompanying his loved one in the ambulance. I phoned my two daughters, then left with Billy in my car to go to the hospital. My daughter, Katie, was talking to the doctor when Billy and I arrived. The doctor and I spoke briey. No heroic measures, I told him, then entered the room where Alberta lay, wires telling of her vital signs to the monitor above her bed. She was still hyper-ventilating, but not as much as before. I sat at her bedside, watching the oscilloscope make sine waves. Billy and the doctor had left. It was just Alberta and me now, as always. I said, I love you, Honey. Did I see her eyelids utter, or was I imagining it? Hoping? I said it again. No, I had imagined it. I said it again and again, like a mantra. Had she heard me? Either way, that was all I felt I could do against the force that was dragging her into the abyss. Billy came in. Katie needs you. I went into the next room, where Katie was sobbing convulsively. I hugged her, then told her I would be back shortly. Billy sat at the bed, looking impassively at the monitor when I returned to Alberta. Just a straight line now. 296
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Dad, she just stopped breathing, he said in a monotone. He didnt want to say his mother was dead. Go tell Katie, I told him. Just Alberta and me... I put my hand in hers, curling my ngers around hers. Two nurses came in presently. One said softly, apologetically, Were sorry, sir, but youll need to leave now. I got up, leaning over to kiss Alberta for the last time, then joined my kids in the next room. Dont look, I said to them, as the gurney carrying Alberta was being wheeled past the window of the room we sat in. A week or so later, rst the cat, then the dog died. Whats all this nonsense about loneliness among dumb animals?
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hey tell me our church was more than threequarters lled at Albertas service, Celebration of Life, they call it today. I sat numbly in the front pew with my ve kids, Katie gripping my arm, not really listening to the beautiful things our minister had to say about Alberta. The pianist played Samuel Barbers Essay for Orchestra, enveloping the gathering with its somber, soft melody like a prayer. She was much loved by everyone. Some of her many friends came forward to tell us of experiences theyd shared, some humorous. Nor was I, at that moment, thinking about what life would be like without her. Nor did I consider the godsend our youngest, Billy, our tailgate, would not be a latch-key kid. Practically all my work now was at home, so I would be Mr. Mom in addition to my regular activities. I thought of nothing; I was numb. I did not cry, as did Albertas parents and the children. I steeled myself so I wouldnt cry in front of Billy as we drove to the hospital. 299
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Even alone in bed I resisted crying. Albertas last words to me the night before she died still weighed heavily on my mind, that she had actually considered divorce and that my obsession with vengeance had, at times, made life miserable for the entire family. I could not undo that. I took some consolation knowing that if there is a hereafter, and if one has to qualify, there would be no deliberation about Alberta. She was a shoo-in. Such thoughts owed and ebbed in my mind as the pianist played and the kind words were spoken. Then, too, I think she must have heard me saying, while at her bedside... I love you, I love you. A nurse had told me the dyings hearing senses remain until the very end. Somebody, I have no idea who, had ordered food and wine. And our dining room table was laden with an impressive display of hot and cold food. Mrs. Spinetti, who lived across the street, brought me a plate and patted my shoulder. Conversation gradually evolved into topics of the day. Pete and Lee, my two oldest, asked if they could go outside. I dont know why, but I told them not to go far, probably clinging to what I still had. Then the celebrants were leaving, reminding me they were just a phone call away if I needed anything, anything. I thanked them for coming and urged them to take some of the food. All politely declined. 300
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And eventually the house was empty. Sensitive to the fragility of life, even under ideal conditions, I opened the front door to check on the kids. They had been joined by neighbors and I watched them on their bikes making gure 8s in the cul-de-sac. Pete, still wearing a tie, sat on the curb. They would mourn in their own fashion for months, for years. Meanwhile, make your gure 8s, thats what your mother would have wanted. God watch over them and keep them from harm. I studied their faces and closed the door. I was drained and my legs felt leaden as I mounted the stairs to our bedroom. I was about to hang my coat in the large walk-in closet but I realized I would be confronted by Albertas clothes hanging neatly on her side. I released the knob and draped the coat on a chair. As Alberta would have wanted, I turned down the bedspread and started to untie my shoe. Memories of that knotted shoelace in the Mayower came back to me. I stretched out with my shoes still on. Voices of the children lifted up from the street. There was also some noise from the kitchen. Someone was still putting away the food and tidying. I couldnt worry about it. I turned on my side and closed my eyes. Its possible that I slept, I dont know, but I heard the bedroom door open softly and glimpsed 301
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Mrs. Spinetti entering. I feigned sleep. There was the familiar sound of the cedar chest opening and closing. Moments later I felt a throw being laid over me. I kept my eyes closed and then relaxed at the blessed sounds of the bedroom door being eased shut.
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THE BEACH
month later, maybe six weeks, walking along the deserted shore of Westward Beach with Dr. Metzler, we watched Hershey, our chocolate lab, criss-crossing the sands ahead of us, occasionally stirring a covey of sandpipers at waters edge. They would rise en masse, then settle down a few yards away. For Hershey, that was good enough. Hed never caught one, or even come close, though I think when he was younger that was his goal. The tiny birds seemed to understand there was no serious threat and went along with the game. This particular stretch of Zuma Beach was frequently used to shoot movies and commercials. A huge rock outcropping to the south called Point Dume blocked the view of homes on the bluff as well as trafc on PCH, and at the northern end of the strip there was a b o t t l e neck so the curious could easily be cordoned off. It was August, and though the sun had disappeared in the ocean a good half hour earlier, the sky and the calm sea were orange and 303
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the sands still held some warmth. We pretty much had the beach to ourselves. How are the kids doing? Metzler asked. Better. You never know whats going on in Lees head. But Jeanie gets a little misty every so often and keeps asking questions like, Why did God have to take Mom? I try to give some comforting answer when Im really asking myself the same question. Sometimes when Im down at the Civic Center and I see these bitches in their shorts and dark glasses and tennis rackets, yakking away for all the world to hear, I want to go up and crush their damn glasses and use their tennis racquets to pound on their fucking Mercedes. What the fuck are they still doing here? What good are they to anyone...? Metzler didnt respond. We were here for me to disgorge it all. I continued to do so. You know what I found in Albertas le cabinet under T? A whole big folder of clippings marked Things Were Going To Do. There were clippings from travel magazines and the LA Times with pictures of a villa in Tuscany, and a castle in Ireland where you could stay. She had long wanted to visit Limerick, where her antecedents, the Plunketts, had lived before the Famine. She would have been happy with any one of them. I never knew she was saving those things. She never mentioned that she wanted to go to these places. Id have taken her, no matter what. 304
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I guess in the back of my mind I always thought someday wed travel but I was so into glue and smoke and hydraulics and shit that I... Dr. Metzler and I walked in silence for a while. Do you ever get misty? he asked. Cry? Yes. I dont know. I cant remember. Probably do you more good than pounding on a Mercedes with a tennis racquet. I cant cry. You afraid youll show weakness? Maybe. I dont know. I was uncomfortable with this topic and I was hoping my tone would make Metzler drop it. Instead, he put his arm across my shoulder. I hadnt been touched by anyone in months. Not since Alberta died. Metzler gave a couple of shakes with his arm, as though he was trying to loosen something, and he did. I felt it rising like a huge bubble within me and it burst out in a sob. I turned away in embarrassment and walked to the shore where I dropped down on the last bit of dry sand. The sobs continued. Hershey came up and licked the side of my face. I raised my elbow and he lay down. I presume Metzler was standing there watching me. What would a passing jogger make of that tableau? I could care less. 305
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STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS WAYS
rs. Spinetti, who lived directly across the street from me, was in her front yard, snipping the wilted blossoms off her snapdragons, as I swung into my driveway. I think it was no coincidence that she was out front at this particular time, and not just happenstance that she was wearing shorts and a halter. Though granted, it was warm for October. As I got out of the car, Mrs. Spinetti moved to the parking strip and called out, Hows it going, Leon? Hangin in there, Mrs. Spinetti, I replied, busying myself with the groceries in the back seat. Can I give you a hand? I got it, Mrs. Spinetti, thank you. Wed been neighbors for years and I used to call her Rosa, but I thought that right now Mrs. Spinetti helped keep the lines drawn. Mrs. Spinetti had gotten divorced six years ago. She kept the house; he kept the secretary. What did that movie queen say? Im a housekeeper. There 307
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was no recovery period for Mrs. Spinetti, no discreet interval. She was going to have the house and some action too. She trolled the supermarkets and the malls. When there was no hookup, she turned to With You and Connections and other dating services, and for a while there were strange cars parked in front of her house till two and three in the morning. But after a while that trafc ceased. Theyre either looking for a quickie or theyre cretins, complained Mrs. Spinetti. All the good ones are taken. Now, she seemed to have me in her sights. Alberta and I had lived in the same house for many years. We knew most of the neighbors well and theyd all put themselves out since Albertas passing. The wives brought freshly baked pies or half of one, or a casserole. I always had several invitations for Thanksgiving. There was never any mention of Alberta. Just, Thought you might like this, Leon, and You know where we are if you need anything, Leon. The husbands often had an extra ticket to the Dodger game, or Id get invited to a quarter limit poker game, or theyd need a fourth for eight ball. Funny, they didnt need a fourth for eight ball when Alberta was alive, and I dont remember there being extra Dodger tickets around either. But I appreciated what they were doing for me. Good people all of them. Im not sure why it existed, probably as a public 308
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relations booster, but there was an organization called Navy League. Most members were ex-Navy, but one didnt have to be Navy to belong. Anyone was welcome. There were modest dues, but no duties that I knew of. One of the benets of belonging to Navy League was short trips at sea aboard various Navy vessels lasting three to ve days. The civilians aboard got to see rst-hand an authentic Navy vessel underway in the line of duty. Craig Peoples, a member of the Malibu Optimists, of which I was also a member, had asked me several times to join a group of fellow Optimists on one of these trips. I always politely declined, never bothering to tell him or anyone about my bitterness toward the Navy. Alberta had always encouraged me to go. Youll be with friends in a friendly atmosphere. Dont worry you wont be taking orders, Lee. She said everything I needed was in a bag shed packed. I said Id think about it, knowing full well Id never go. Thanks, but no thanks. Peoples had called me several days earlier and said there were six Optimists going aboard the destroyer Arthur. Theyd be sailing north from Long Beach to Vancouver, then back to San Francisco, and there was room for one more. I thanked Craig for asking, but I passed. I knew part of the invitation was to help me get active and buoy my spirits. Maybe 309
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next time, I said. Mrs. Spinetti however had more on her mind than tuna casserole, so I tried to keep a line in the sand without being obvious. I must have yanked at the wrong angle unloading the groceries. The paper handle tore off the Ralphs bag causing a cantaloupe to roll down the driveway and a can of vegetable soup to roll under the car. I swore softly, a luxury I had allowed myself with Alberta not there to censure me. I promised her I would eat sensibly, hence the vegetable soup, but Id made no commitment about swearing. Though I never swore without feeling her presence. P r o b a b l y, t h e m a i n r e a s o n I s w o r e wa s m y frustration over Boda. I knew where the body was buried, guratively and literally, but I could do nothing about it. Probably, thats why I had yanked on the paper handle and I had sworn because I knew the spillage would bring Mrs. Spinetti running. It did. She was at my side in an instant, having scooped up the errant cantaloupe en route. She put it back in the torn bag, her brusque manner implying that men, especially me, knew nothing about groceries and shouldnt be involved with such things. The cantaloupe secured, she went for the can of soup under the car which left her well-proportioned, for her age, posterior angled toward me. A few red 310
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spider veins here and there on her thighs, but really not bad, and all cats are gray in the dark anyway. Trouble was, if I allowed any such activity to get started, Mrs. Spinetti would be taking up residence in my house and have her own on the market the following day after Using her like that!... after taking advantage of her like that! Its only natural there should be a commitment. It would not be an afternoon delight between two consenting adults not with Mrs. Spinetti it wouldnt. Nevertheless, I let her help me put away the groceries. I noticed she was also rearranging the cupboard in the process, pointing out that you saved steps if you thought of the kitchen as a triangle, The sink, the... I stopped her in mid-sentence. Im comfortable with the way Alberta had things, Mrs. Spinetti. There was no response, but the rearranging stopped. Mrs. Spinetti was not offended enough to excuse herself. Instead, she poured herself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table as though shed earned it. I took another chair opposite her. Id be here for a while. Mrs. Spinetti adjusted her halter in case I had forgotten what the halter encased. She started planning my life for me, ticking off all the things I needed to nd happiness and longevity. You need to get out more, Leon. God did not intend us to live alone. Do you like to dance? 311
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My gesture said I could take it or leave it. We should go dancing. Take tango lessons something. It would be good for you. I agreed that she was probably right. I should, and I would. But Id been pretty busy with this project of mine. I thought that got shot down, said Mrs. Spinetti. Alberta told me the Navy didnt go for it. God, what would life be like with this woman? No wonder Mr. Spinetti opted for the secretary. And it is probable that it was the quickies and the cretins who failed to call after a couple of dates. I was not really listening to her. I was just waiting for her to leave. I considered saying, Ive got to go to work now. But that made no sense at 5:15 in the afternoon. If I said Im going to x dinner now, she would be getting the pots and pans out and instructing me to make myself comfortable, and watch TV. Shed call me when dinner was ready. So I just sat there. Not really listening but occasionally nodding and making sounds of afrmation. God must have kept me there. God must have tapped me on the shoulder and said, Dont move, Cooper. Listen to this woman. Shes going to say something important, something thats going to change your life for the better. Remember, I work in strange and mysterious ways. ... Your invention was probably perfectly ne, Leon. There was probably nothing important wrong 312
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with it that couldnt be xed. But they threw the baby out with the bath water. It works, Mrs. Spinetti, it works just ne. Im sure it does, Leon, but thats not it. Today in the Navy or in business or anywhere, its not what you know, its who you know. Thats what Tony always used to say, Its not what you know, its who you know. You know what Im saying. You gotta have connections in the right places. Tony always said that. Before Mrs. Spinetti could take a breath to start in again, I was on my feet. Mrs. Spinetti, I love you! You are my dream girl. I have a very important letter to write, so Ill have to ask you to go home. But lets have dinner and a show some night. You have made my day! You have made my life. I pulled her to her feet, clasped her head in both my hands and kissed her soundly. I ushered the bewildered woman to the door saying, Im going to take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and buy you the best steak in the house and all the champagne you can drink. I gave that reasonably rm fanny that Id been admiring earlier a swat and closed the door behind her. I went to the study and squared myself in front of the computer and started writing:
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Rear Admiral Joseph C. Boda, USN Potomac River Naval Command Washington, D.C. 20905 Dear Admiral Boda: I wish to take this opportunity to sincerely apologize for my behavior in the street that afternoon in Washington. I believe the clinical name for it is temporary paranoid reaction. Its stress-related. I do hope you will accept my apologies. And of course, the incident aboard the Potomac was inexcusable. I can only say in my defense that I was not myself. I hope we can put it behind us in the spirit of comradeship. I know I have. Not long ago, I presented an invention of mine to the Navy procurement ofce: USN C-423-001. The concept is very practical and Im convinced it will be of great service to the Navy and our country. Anything you can do to help this get the attention it deserves will be greatly appreciated. Your old comrade in arms, Lt. (S.G.) Leon Cooper 276465, USNR P.S. I believe I know where your missing daughter, Rosalie, is. If I can be of any help locating her, please dont hesitate to contact me.
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I sealed the envelope and called FedEx for overnight delivery, signature required. I went to the front door and ipped the porch light on. I felt condent Mrs. Spinetti was still watching my house, so I pulled open the door and blew her a kiss with both hands. I saw her curtains move.
Including myself, there were seven civilians aboard the USS Arthur when it got underway at 1600 hours from Long Beach and headed north on a calm sea. I was below in quarters I shared with Peoples. Hed gone forward, probably to get a drink. I started unpacking my small duffel bag, and below the sundries I came across my soft overseas cap with two silver bars. I smiled, recognizing Albertas touch. I set it aside and nished unpacking. I was about to leave the cabin when the cap, lying on the bunk, caught my eye. I put it on, checked myself out in the mirror. I adjusted the angle of the hat and went up on deck. I found I had the deck pretty much to myself and went forward, letting the cool salty air wash over my face. The bow started to pitch a little and I broadened my stance. Scattered clouds from an earlier rain squall still lingered making a beautiful sunset. I wished Alberta was with me to see this. 315
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It would have made her feel good. Actually, it didnt feel so bad to me. Peoples came up beside me. They were getting up a poker game in the lounge. Did I want to sit in? Sounds good, I said. Ill be there in a minute. How you doing, Leon? he asked. I knew he was referring to my loss of Alberta. Im ne, Craig. You heard any more about that invention of yours? Did that go sour? For a while there, but its hot again. Theyll buy it. Im sure of it. Thats great... How do you know that? Because Ive got an Admiral by the balls and connections in the White House. Its not what you know, Craig, its who you know. Im sure Peoples thought Id lost it. He looked at me strangely, gave a polite laugh and said hed see me inside. He moved off. I stood there for a while actually enjoying it. I no longer felt victimized. Boda was now the victim and I was the one empowered. I was the one Admiral Boda feared. This menace would hang over his head like the Sword of Damocles. When he woke in the morning, if he slept at all, I and our secret would be the rst thing on his mind, and the last at night. He would dream of bulldozers ripping up that barbecue and lifting his daughter Rosalie into 316
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the air for all the world to see. I would be a shadow lurking in the back of his mind 24 hours a day for the rest of his life. And, lest he get complacent, I would send him Christmas cards annually wishing him a successful and prosperous new year and much success in his Navy career. That in itself would be enough, but I felt certain Boda would nd an opportune moment aboard the Potomac to catch the Presidents ear. Ah, Mr. President, may I have a moment of your time?... A former shipmate of mine, Lieutenant Cooper, who served with me in the Pacific has presented the Navy procurement ofce with an important concept that could save the Navy millions in fuel costs. I encouraged him in the development of this and, in my opinion, its an outstanding idea and Id just hate to see it fall through the cracks for some reason when I know a word from your office would see that it gets the attention it richly deserves... Thank you, Mr. President. Thank you very much. I really appreciate that. I had hedged ever so slightly on my promise to Alberta but it was my state of mind she was concerned about and I felt great. I hadnt felt so good in a long time. I wondered what Metzler would say. Maybe I wouldnt tell him. Maybe I wouldnt see him again. 317
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It was starting to pitch a little. Hate to admit it, Alberta, but it feels pretty good. Thank you. Oh, and thank you too, Mrs. Spinetti. I muttered, Yes! and gave a pumping motion with my st as though Id just served an ace or thrown a touchdown pass. I turned to go inside. Id thought I was alone and was surprised to see a sailor approaching who had witnessed my little victory gesture. He noticed my hat and saluted. I returned a snappy salute and pulled open the hatchway door. The deck was momentarily bathed in the warm light from inside. I had a feeling Id be lucky at poker tonight also. The Arthur cut a beautiful silhouette against the orange sky as she moved out to sea.
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THE END
atch moved into an extended care facility outside D.C. Its hard to imagine him in that setting. We exchanged Christmas cards for years. One from him, enclosed a clipping from the Washington Post of Admiral Bodas obituary. The article gushed about his heroism, photo and all. A year later Gatch told me that the body of Bodas missing daughter had been exhumed. Gatch had only learned about it because of his police connections, but there was nothing in the papers about that. The Navy takes care of its own. No card from Gatch this past year. The Navy nally did purchase the rights to my Sea Power propulsion device and I so much regret that Alberta wasnt here to share the moment with me. She would have loved it. So far, no royalties from the Navy, but I was told ofcially it was being tested. It is not something the oil companies would be happy to see implemented.
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Peggy, thanks for your support at the party. Well done. I hope you came through it all okay and I hope you found well-deserved happiness. Youre a lovely lady. If youre still around and happen to read this, Id love to hear from you.
Ive often wondered what effect those 90 days had on me. They denitely put me in harms way, and they matured me much faster than I would have preferred. They showed me I could achieve where others could not. They gave me condence and made me realize I could command men and make decisions under stress. Not always the right ones, but decisions. I have regrets, but not about Midshipmans School. It did what it was supposed to do. Im told WWII vets are dying off at more than a thousand a day. How discouraging. Im not thinking of myself, but some of the guys really deserve it. Templewood, for instance. (Im glad he went swimming that day with Emily Klingerman.) And Gatch, and the Beachmaster and the guy who came back for one more load of ammunition on the beach that day. They deserve it. I hope Tom Hanks gets the money together for that memorial. THE END
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TABLE OF CONTENTS (continued)

THAT OLD FEELING

That Old Feeling

That Old Feeling

That Old Feeling

WE THOUGHT THEYD NEVER END

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

I had taken the train back to Chicago and anoth-

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

We Thought Theyd Never End

THE 90 DAY TRANSFORMATION

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

The 90 Day Transformation

LOOKING FOR COMPANY

Looking For Company

Looking For Company

Looking For Company

Looking For Company

Looking For Company

Looking For Company

THE OLD COIN TRICK

The Old Coin Trick

The Old Coin Trick

The Old Coin Trick

The Old Coin Trick

temporary reassignment. Tarawa: The New Atlantis

THE STADIMETER GAMBIT

The Stadimeter Gambit

The Stadimeter Gambit

The Stadimeter Gambit

The Stadimeter Gambit

The Stadimeter Gambit

The Stadimeter Gambit

AFTER THE BALL

After The Ball

After The Ball

After The Ball

LESLIE S. TEMPLEWOOD III

Leslie S. Templewood III

Leslie S. Templewood III

Leslie S. Templewood III

GETTING TO KNOW YOU

Getting To Know You

Getting To Know You

Getting To Know You

Getting To Know You