Olongapo Earp (Tequila Vikings Book 2)

by J. E. Park

  Since most of the men responded from the berthing area, which was much closer to the MAA shack, Stovic and I were the last two men on station. MA1 Thompson passed me a 12-gauge shotgun, a belt full of shells, and a flak jacket. Stovic got a .45 automatic. “Go to the catwalk! Take up positions at mid-ship and wait for orders! This is NOT a drill!”

  “Catwalk?” I asked, looking at the weapon I was issued. “I’m too far away from the waterline up there for a shotgun to be any good! Give me an M-14!”

  Thompson slammed the armory door. “Just do what you’re told, Murphy! I’m not looking for accuracy out of you. I’m looking for noise. If I give you the order to fire, you aim for the fish. I’m hoping that hearing the blast of the shotgun will be enough to scare the threat back to shore!”

  “Scare? Threat? Wha…?” We did not train to fire warning shots. Thompson’s directions went contrary to standard operating procedures. “What do you mean…”

  “Goddammit, Murphy! Get going and get on that fucking catwalk! NOW!”

  Stovic and I bolted from the shack and ran to take up our positions. Once on the catwalk, we dropped to our bellies then crawled to the edge to spot our target. Neither of us saw anything. We did hear the duty watch officer above us on the flight deck, yelling through a bullhorn. “Attention! You are trespassing on American property! We are ordering you to pull away and return to shore immediately! If you do not comply, you are risking arrest! If you come any closer, we will fire on you to protect the ship!”

  “Fire on us!?!” I heard a woman cry out in English, almost directly below me.

  They were so close that I had to stick my head over the edge of the walkway to see them. There were three old American ladies in a motorized canoe. The pilot of the craft was one of the locals, a young man about our age who appeared to suffer some minor mental impairment. He had one eye, a severe overbite, and though he looked startled by the duty officer screaming at him from above, his mouth bore a huge smile. It was as if that was the only expression he knew how to give. I grinned as I realized that this was the “threat” that got the duty Master-at-Arms so worked up. I wondered how he would react to a Zodiac craft full of Russian Spetznaz commandos heading our way.

  “Please don’t shoot!” one of the other women pled in an acute Alabama accent. “We just wanted to see the ship! It’s so big!”

  “We won’t shoot as long as you follow our orders,” Lieutenant Commander Bertram told her. “You need to get away from the ship and return to port immediately before someone gets hurt.”

  “Okay! Okay! We’re sorry!” another lady said before telling the pilot something in Tagalog. As the local gunned the motor and started steering them away from our ship, they all waved and called out their apologies. “We didn’t mean to cause any trouble!”

  The driver made eye contact with me as they left and smiled. “Bye-bye!” he yelled, waving.

  I waved back. “Bye-bye!” At 17:30, it was all just a cute misunderstanding. We had another cute misunderstanding about an hour later. It stopped being cute and ended up just being a misunderstanding at about 20:00. Forty-five minutes after that, we had another security alert, and I was pretty pissed to see that the one-eyed canoe guy came back. He was at the ship's bow that time, though. I was near the stern. The distance made it difficult to express my displeasure with him. By 23:00, we had been called to security alert seven times, and we were getting aggravated.

  It seemed like everyone with a boat had to motor in to get a better look at our ship that night. The infuriating part of it was that damn near every one of those vessels carried Americans who should have known better. Yet there they were, taking pictures in front of us and trying to get someone’s attention so that they could ask questions. It was as if they thought we were tour guides instead of sailors. The foolhardiest of them tried to get close enough to touch the hull. Every expatriate Yankee within a hundred miles had lost their freaking mind and wanted to keep us up all night. Still, the duty officer handled each one of them with professionalism and restraint.

  Sometime after midnight, though, even LCDR Bertram’s patience started to wear thin. That time Stovic and I were assigned as his escorts. We were standing on the flight deck with him, watching old one-eye coming at us for the fourth time. “For Christ’s sake,” the duty officer complained. “Is this ever going to stop?”

  I shook my head. “Not as long as we're so congenial to the sons-of-bitches.”

  Bertram scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Start blowing them out of the water?”

  “Naw,” I told him. “Just put some fear into them.”

  “How?”

  “Let me get a little excited with them. That one-eye fucker likes to get in close and drive them down the length of the ship to the fantail. I’ve got access to the Nixie Winch Room. There’s a fueling station right inside with a hatch that opens up closer to the waterline. From there, I can get personal with the bastards.”

  Bertram looked at me for a couple of moments. Like everyone else on the ship, he knew what I had done to Randy Green. I could tell he was wondering if I could handle myself with enough restraint to keep someone from getting hurt. “Let me see your weapon.”

  I passed the lieutenant commander my shotgun, and he checked it to make sure it was unloaded. After passing it back to me, he said, “Give Stovic your shells. Petty Officer Stovic, you keep them on you unless you’re fired on, understand? Gentlemen, you are not to touch those people in any way at all. If someone gets hurt, it’s your ass, Murphy. Go do your thing.”

  “Aye-aye, sir!” At that, Stovic and I both took off to make our way to the well deck.

  We got to the fueling station just in time, and we could hear the canoe motoring up alongside us. When it sounded like it was passing underneath, I kicked the hatch as hard as I could. It flew wide open until it crashed against the side of the ship with a calamitous clang. Both Captain Cyclops and his American passenger jumped at the racket. I then threw half my body out of the hatch, pointed my shotgun at their heads, and ratcheted back the forestock to make it sound like I was chambering a round. They both dove down and covered their heads with their arms.

  “GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE ‘EM!” I screamed, mustering as much volume as was humanly possible. “NOW, GODDAMMIT! NOW! GET ‘EM UP BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEADS OFF! MOVE IT!”

  The American came unglued as he leapt to throw his hands in the air. He did it so quickly that he damn near capsized the canoe and tossed them both into Subic Bay. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! We’re unarmed! We just wanted to…”

  “KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND YOUR HANDS UP!” I pointed my weapon at the canoe’s pilot. He was still hunched over with his hands over his ears. “YOU! YOU! GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS UP, GODDAMN IT! HANDS UP! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME OR DO I HAVE TO BLOW A…!”

  “Please! Please! Don’t do this! He doesn’t speak English! He can’t understand you!” The American then said something to the young man in Tagalog that convinced him to look up. He was shaking uncontrollably with tears running down both of his cheeks. That goofy-ass mouth full of all those funky teeth was still smiling at me, though. Suddenly, I was not very proud of myself.

  “This is the fourth time he’s been here!” I shouted at the American. “What’s it going to take to get it through his fucking head that this is an American warship and not some goddamn cruise liner?”

  His hands still up, the American said, “I’m sorry! It’s not his fault! It's ours! He works with our mission, Hope’s Children Ministries! We’ve been paying him and a couple of the other young men to take us out here to see you! Please don’t hurt him!”

  I let out a sigh. I tended to distrust bible thumpers in general, but the man in the canoe did not appear cut from the same cloth as Lieutenant Krause. I lowered my weapon and looked at the canoe pilot again. He was terrified and openly weeping now. “What’s his name?”

  “We call him Freddy.”

  “Freddy!” I called out. “F
reddy! Tingnan mo ako! Ito ay magiging tama. Hindi kita masasaktan.”

  Turning back to the American, I asked, “Did I say that right?”

  The missionary nodded. “Good enough to get your point across. You told him everything’s going to be OK.”

  I shook my head in exasperation. “Look, this stuff has to stop. Right now. Do you understand? You’re putting this kid at risk and…”

  “Look, man, he’s just trying to earn some money…”

  “I don’t care. If this keeps up, somebody’s going to get hurt. It’s probably going to be him. Freddy works for you guys, right?”

  The missionary nodded. “Then get him to stop. Get his friends to stop and tell your people to stop hiring these guys. You’re trespassing. The next time I catch one of you guys here, I’m going to hold you for whoever’s supposed to be patrolling the fucking harbor. Hold on a second.”

  I scooted back inside the hatch and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet. I crumpled it up around a couple of quarters I found in my pocket to give it some weight and tossed it into their canoe. “Give that to Freddy. Tell him if he keeps everyone else a hundred meters from this ship for the rest of the night, I’ll give him another twenty if we ever cross paths again.”

  The missionary grinned and translated what I said. Freddy’s tears dried up and he beamed at his newfound fortune. He then bobbed his head up and down, saying, “Salamat! Salamat!” Thank you.

  The missionary seemed grateful as well. As they pulled away from the ship, he called out, “Thanks! I appreciate you letting us go! When I get back to shore, I’ll shut this thing down. Hey, what’s your name?”

  “I’d rather not say!” I shouted out. “I generally don’t introduce myself to people I’ve recently pointed weapons at!”

  The American laughed. “Fair enough! My name’s Michael! I hope to meet you again under better circumstances sometime!”

  Once Freddy’s canoe was gone, we were dismissed from the security alert. We turned in our weapons, crawled into our racks, and were no longer awakened by announcements over the 1MC. Instead, we were kept awake by the steady flow of drunks rolling in just in time to beat the 01:00 curfew. I had to laugh when Palazzo and Kent showed up. Both of them were stupid drunk and covered in hickeys. I was exhausted but listened to the lurid details of what they had done that evening.

  I did not get nearly enough sleep before morning muster, but I was still one of the first people to arrive on the flight deck for roll call. Strolling over to where the CSE division formed up, I heard my name called. I looked up and saw Lieutenant Commander Bertram looking over the starboard side. He was very close to where I had left him the night before, beckoning me to join him. “You gotta see this!”

  Out in Subic Bay, about a hundred meters away from us, one-eyed Freddy was patrolling the harbor all by himself. He was intercepting any of the other boats that looked like they intended to get too close. “Oh my god,” I said. “How long has he been out there?”

  “The rovers reported all night. You must have scared the piss out of that poor guy.”

  I let the duty officer think that, keeping the fact that I bribed the man to myself.

  Looking out into the bay, I found myself somewhat befuddled at why so many people wanted to see the USS Belleau Wood that night. The Subic Bay Naval Station was an American military base. Ships visited there all the time. The Wood was an impressive vessel but dwarfed by the massive supercarriers that pulled in a few times a year. I was at a loss to explain what made us so special.

  The historical significance of what we were doing in the Philippines was lost upon me at the time. There were plenty of people around that area who fully understood the ramifications of what was happening, though. Thousands of retired servicemen living in Olongapo realized that we were dismantling their connection to the US. We were taking their grocery stores, movie theaters, and health care facilities with us. They were facing a future of uncertainty now, not knowing if they would be able to maintain their quality of life there anymore.

  There were also plenty of businesses that were going to fold once the Wood completed its mission. The economic shockwaves were going to be felt throughout the northern part of the country, the part hit hardest by the eruption of Pinatubo. Their livelihoods were simply going to evaporate once we cast off our mooring lines.

  Young men in Philippine schools also knew that without the base’s lease agreement, the Navy was no longer required to take in Filipino recruits. Another opportunity to provide prosperity to them and their families would soon be out of reach. Young women not able to seek their fortune in American military service were losing their chances for a better life also. There were plenty of them getting forced out of their jobs as nurses, cashiers, waitresses, and domestic help with the closing of the base.

  And then there were the ladies working the bars of Magsaysay Drive and Barrio Barretto. They may not have had the skills required to land a job working for the American government, but they had dreams, too. Many of them hoped to be rescued from the bleak situation that they were born into by some young sailor who could whisk them away to a better life in America. For many girls from remote villages with no education or other means of upward mobility, it was their only way out. Their dreams would also be dashed once our ship crossed over the horizon.

  The Belleau Wood was not only dismantling a military base; it was scrapping a way of life. For better or worse, Subic Bay was the beating heart of Olongapo. Things were going to change after we left. They had to. Everyone in Olongapo knew that, and it scared many of them.

  No doubt, there were plenty of people who were elated to see the Americans leave. Still, there were many whose lives were so tied to the US military presence in the Philippines that they could not help but feel powerless in the face of what was happening. They knew what they were losing, and as they cast their eyes upon the Belleau Wood, they knew we were taking it away. There was an army of people out there who wanted to see an American warship moored to that pier one last time. They wanted to hear it. They wanted to touch it.

  And for the moment, there was only ole’ One-Eyed Freddy keeping them all at bay.

  *****

  CHAPTER 11

  M aster Chief Darrow told me at quarters to meet him in the SPN-35 dome at noon. I took in an early lunch and arrived at 11:45, only to find him already there with a big grin on his face. “What?” I asked as I closed the door behind me. “Did you win the lottery or something?”

  “Close,” Darrow answered. “You remember the lieutenant’s warning yesterday about Pagsanjan? How he said he busted more people there than the Armed Forces Police Department?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, I went to the Shore Patrol station on base yesterday and took a look at some files. He did. He personally got more than two dozen military personnel charged for being with underaged prostitutes when he was stationed here. He made sure they all did time.”

  I nodded my approval. “Good for him. I’m glad to see he’s got at least one redeeming feature.”

  “You don’t see anything wrong with that?” Darrow asked.

  I shook my head. “Should I?”

  “Two dozen people, Doyle. That’s a lot. It doesn’t make you wonder why he was spending so much time in Pagsanjan himself? Especially considering that he wasn’t a cop?”

  I started seeing where Darrow was going with this.

  “Do you remember the story I told you about the captain’s wife and her first husband?”

  “Of course.” It was not a story I was likely to forget. When Darrow was on the AFPD in the 1970s, he caught a lieutenant commander molesting boys in Pagsanjan. Desperate to keep the cover his marriage provided for his lifestyle, the officer snapped when his wife asked for a divorce. He tried to kill our captain, a young helicopter pilot stationed at Cubi Point that his wife was having an affair with. While defending himself, Fleming killed the lieutenant commander with the man’s own gun, which Darrow helped to cover up. It was why
my master chief had so much pull on the Belleau Wood.

  “Well, that dirtbag spent a lot of time in Pagsanjan, too. He also busted a bunch of his men for frequenting the area. He did it to put fear into them, to make sure they stayed away from his playground. He didn’t want anybody catching him doing his thing out that way.”

  “And nobody ever asked that son-of-a-bitch what he was doing out there?”

  Darrow shook his head. “Nope. He had a cover. He played the part of a bible thumper. He went out there as part of a Christian outreach group called Hope’s Children Ministries.”

  “No shit?” I gasped. “I crossed paths with one of them yesterday. He was in a canoe that got too close to the boat and sparked a security alert. You saying that’s a front for pedophiles?”

  “No, no. Not at all,” Darrow said while strenuously shaking his head. “They actually do some excellent work out here. Child molesters know how to work a system, though. They know the ministry will give them access to vulnerable kids and cover things up if they get caught. The missionaries aren't complicit in this shit, but they’re terrified of the publicity they'll get if one of their guys gets caught molesting kids. Pedophiles know how to exploit the hell out of that shit.” Darrow paused, trying to read the look on my face. “You don’t look surprised.”

  I shrugged. “I was raised Catholic. There were a couple of priests my mother made sure to keep me away from. After I got older, I heard some stuff.”

  Darrow nodded in understanding. “Yeah, well, guess who else spent a lot of time working in Pagsanjan with Hope’s Children Ministries? Even at the same time as that prick our captain shot.”

  “No shit? Krause?” I asked.

  “Yep. Krause,” Darrow answered.

  “Do you honestly think that he’s the type of guy that would…”

  “The only type of guy that ever gets caught doing shit like that is the type of guy that you would least expect to. Every dirtbag I ever arrested over there was otherwise a model citizen. They were usually married, too, with children of their own. I never had someone come up to me after I popped one of these assholes and say, ‘Yeah, I knew there was something off about that dude.’ Everyone is always surprised.”