Grasping the steel rail, I stepped down hard on the first rung of the ladder. The metal deck raised for a climb. After the crest, the bow pointed down, the steel hull screamed, and the stern vibrated as the propellers splashed out of the water.
Waddling like a duck to keep my footing, I reached the mess decks. Not a drop spilled as I expertly poured my coffee. Flanders stood on the other side of the serving counter, looking like he had been keelhauled. From his pinched expression, I knew he had a bad hangover headache. I didn’t feel sorry for him and he ignored me as he prepared the crew’s breakfast.
The seat closest to the large coffee urn was empty. I dropped into it before the ship met the next big swell of waves. Chief Berry, the Chief Master at Arms, sat across the table from me.
“Morning, Chief. You look tired. Didn’t you get any sleep?”
“Morning, Pencils. No, not much. The OOD woke me at two this morning. Lt. Barnes didn’t show up for his watch. I searched all over this damn ship and I can’t find him.”
“Does the Captain know?”
“Yeah. He’s sending a radio dispatch to inform Pearl Harbor that Barnes is missing and possibly fell overboard.”
The speakers crackled as the boatswain piped reveille.
Chapter 2
The continued rough seas forced the Captain’s decision to have quarters for muster inside the ship. In my office, each person stood at his assigned work space where I read the announcements and conducted a brief uniform inspection. After assigning each a task to be completed that day, I dismissed my four-man crew at 0815 hours, just when sick call sounded over the speakers. I refilled my coffee mug from a thermos and eluded everyone by quickly retreating out the ship’s office door.
Turning the hand wheel on the watertight door, the heavy steel flew open as the ship leaned to port. With a firm hold on my coffee cup, I stepped onto the weather deck. My left hand kept the door from pounding the bulkhead. The roll reversed to starboard and the door slammed shut. With a one-handed twist, I secured the dogs against the wedges.
Using the wide-set duck walk I kept my feet under me and finally reached the shield that surrounded the 3”/50 gun mount on the ship’s fantail. Despite the weather, I took up a stand beneath the barrel to watch the waves form like mountain peaks with deep, round valleys. The wind whipped the white caps, spraying salt crystals over the surface of the ship.
Like a cork bobbing up and down, the small gray vessel fought against the walls of water. The waves collided against us, pouring their contents over the stern. They splashed against the depth charge rack, shooting a fountain twenty feet in the air. The stern shot upward covering the horizon line. The propellers churned the surface. Like the motion of an elevator, I dropped. The fan tail submerged, allowing the dull green mountain peaks of water to flow across the deck.
The hot, humid blast of the storm threw the salt spray against my face like a hundred pin pricks. My hair soon stood in short spikes, my scalp sticky with brine. I took a deep swallow from my mug, savoring the strong black brew mixed with the essence of the sea.
My thoughts turned to LT(JG) Barnes. If he went overboard, it had to have been after dark, otherwise he would have been spotted by the watch. I turned my back to the prevailing wind that almost pushed the ship forward. My gaze searched the lookout watch standing on the 01 deck, near the deck house. If the Lieutenant opened a door or a hatch after dark, the lookout would have seen the light and alarmed the bridge, because everyone knew the weather decks are off limits during high seas.
Once again the stern went under, only deeper this time. A wave hit the protection shield and sprayed over my head. Water dripped from my face. In an instant I stood in a foot of salty foam. A gentle roll to port drained the inside of the shield. Deciding I had enough fresh air, I poured out my coffee.
Teddy turned and smiled as I closed the office door. He braced himself for the ship’s movement. “Was you swabbing the decks, Pencils?”
Stopping the smile was tough. I refused to show favorites to anyone in my crew, but I had always liked Teddy. He had brains. Keith, a yeoman seated at another typewriter, required constant dogging to keep him working. A second class Personnelman and a Third Class Postal Clerk occupied the remaining seats in the office. Both knew their jobs, but also how to avoid me when I wanted something done. Naturally, Teddy picked up their slack.
I ignored the swabbing crack. “You made the changes to the BuPers Manual?”
“Be done this morning.”
“Good. Right now I have five names. I want you to pull their jackets and check for any disciplinary problems they may have had. I’ll be out of the office for an hour. When you’re finished, put the report on my desk.”
Teddy glanced at the list. “Do these names have anything to do with the missing Lieutenant?”
I pinched my eyes, wishing he wasn’t so inquisitive, especially in front of the others in the office. “No, but why do you ask?”
He looked around at the other two who had stopped working, then met my hard stare. He shrugged and walked to the file drawers.
The Executive Officer did not authorize it, but I thought an immediate investigation should be started. I decided to begin by questioning the five seaman on that list.
The first happened to be Jerry Mathews, the ship’s notorious trouble-maker. Out of boot camp less than a year, he hated anyone who gave orders. He complied, but the expression in his eyes gave him away. When he first came on board six months ago, I thought him a likable kid, but the sea duty changed him. I wasn’t so sure I either liked him or trusted him.
After a few inquiries, I located Mathews on the signal bridge. He held an air-powered, five-prong chipping hammer in his hand and worked on the bottom half of the storage container for signal flags. My hand signal silenced the rattling “tat-tat.”
Since he wasn’t under my direct command, I saw the light of suspicion in his eyes as he turned his dark tan face to me. “What’s up Pencils?”
I had to be careful with the kid or he would tell me to pound sand, so I opted for a casual conversation. Leaning back against the signal light, I cocked my head and smiled at the clanging of the bell with the ship’s movement. Amazing how it came through above the roar of the waves. He listened too, then grunted.
“Nice view up here,” I offered.
“Yeah, but it’s a better view back in Topeka, Kansas.”
“Forgot you were from there. What ever made you decide to join the Navy?”
“The goddamn recruiter promised me girls and travel. Shit! The only thing I’ve found so far has been salt water and scum bucket ports!”
“You spent time at Pearl Harbor. Didn’t you like Honolulu?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “You call Hotel Street an easy pickup for broads? Shit! They won’t let me buy a goddamn beer there, because I ain’t twenty! The only place I can drink is at the Block in Pearl. And you know you can’t get pussy on base with a bunch of drunken sailors.”
“So, what type of girl do you want to meet?”
He stepped closer to use me as a shield and placed a cigarette in his mouth. Keeping his back to the wind, he struck a match, but it went out before he got the Winston lit. I took his book of matches, cupped my hands, bent a match with my thumb and flicked it to life. His eyebrows jumped with admiration at my dexterity. He took a couple of quick puffs to get a good head on the end.
“Thanks. I’ll remember that. Would you like a butt?”
“No thanks.”
He pulled another drag and let the smoke flow out his nose.
“You know, Pencils, I’m not like these other assholes on this rust bucket. I’m tired of the bar sluts, like the ones in Olongapo. I want someone like what I had back in Topeka.”
“What happened to her?”
“Three weeks into boot camp, she wrote me that she met someone else. You know, she decided to go out with this ugly dude from a farm? Why would a good-looking chick want some barn yard shit?”
“G
ot me, Jerry. If you had joined the Navy to meet girls, maybe your relationship was not good in the first place. My girl back in Omaha did the same to me when I went to boot. Life goes on. You just have to prove to yourself you’re a man and be strong when a crises faces you. When we get back to Pearl, why don’t I take you to this place I go to. It’s out near Waikiki Beach, called the Bare Foot Bar. They serve soda pop and provide volley ball and surf boards. Have you heard of it?”
“Things are expensive at Waikiki. I never have that kind of money.”
“Hey, I introduced Teddy to a girl there. Really nice and a student at the university. They’ve been dating ever since. You don’t need much money, once you meet someone you really like.”
“Really?” He sucked on his cigarette, his eyes searching my face. “Pencils, why are you talking to me?”
“Oh, I have nothing to do at the moment. Why? Am I bothering you?”
“No, but you’ve been a jerk and another goddamn asshole since I been aboard. You wrote me up once, remember?”
“Yeah. You didn’t have a hat on while we were in port.”
“Yeah, the uniform bit. So why are you up here now. I don’t really like being seen talking to a First Class.”
“Okay, I’ll be honest with you, Jerry. I decided to come on deck and get some fresh air. Too choppy to go on the main deck. It was surprise to see you out here.”
He thought about that as he looked out over the waves. “So you’re serious about taking me to Waikiki?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have offered unless I was.”
He took out his second cigarette and attempted to thumb-light the match. It didn’t work. I lit the Winston for him.
“Did you hear Lt. Barnes is missing?” My question came out just a conversational as everything else.
Jerry savored his cigarette before replying, “Yeah. They mentioned something at muster. I hope the sonofabitch is dead and gone to hell.”
“Why? I never thought he was that bad.”
“Shit! The goddamn bastard canceled liberty for me and several others just because the quarter deck needed painting. No one on the deck force likes that stupid asshole.”
“What do you think happened to him?”
“I dreamed one time of seeing him hung on the yardarm, but you can see he ain’t up there. Well, better get back to it.” He picked up his hammer and the “tat-tat” resumed.
After talking to the next three on the list, I went to the chief boatswain mate. He informed me that Sammy Garretson, the last seaman, worked on the mess decks. Lt. Barnes had pulled him off the deck force three days before and gave him three months duty as a mess cook.
I really didn’t think I would get much more information from Garretson. Up to that point, everyone had told me they hated Mister Barnes, but no one had given me evidence or even a hint as to why he was missing. The possibility of an accident was becoming more likely by the minute, but still didn’t feel right to me.
Flanders nodded when I stepped to the serving counter. He looked in good spirits, tattoos and all.
“Where’s Seaman Garretson?”
Flanders smiled as if he was glad I was dogging someone other than him. “What you want him for?”
“Something in his service jacket that I want to ask him about.”
The grin grew larger. “He’s below deck, by the produce locker, peeling spuds.”
I entered the open hatch outside the door to the mess decks. Passing by the frozen reefer, I found Garretson sitting on the deck rhythmically swaying with the ship’s movement. His paring knife cleanly dispensed a potato eye and he threw the peeled potato into a large stainless pot at his side. I took out my pocket knife, sat on the deck, and picked up a good-sized potato.
Half-way through the peeling, I broke the silence. “Sammy, I understand you’ve been pissed off the past few days.”
“What’s it to you, Pencils?” He stabbed another potato.
“Listen, I don’t care if you don’t like me, but you’re pissing off all your friends with that attitude. This isn’t that big a ship and we’ve got to get along.”
He sneered and kept peeling.
“Take some advice. Just make up your mind to finish off these three months. Shit, you know as well as I do that every seaman fresh out of boot camp who reports aboard ship gets mess cook duty. Period. Once it’s out of the way, you don’t have to worry about getting it again.”
From the thoughtful creases in his forehead, I knew he was weighing what I said. I finished three potatoes to his one. The feat didn’t go unnoticed.
“You’re really good, ain’t you?”
“What do you mean, Sammy?”
“Peeling these goddamn spuds.”
“I’ve done my share of mess duty. It’s part of being in the Navy, or didn’t you hear me say that?”
“Yeah, but it’s also used like punishment. That’s why I got the assignment from Lt. Asshole. I mean, shit, I was only looking to buy that necklace for my girlfriend back in the States.”
“Necklace? What are you talking about?”
“I was standing there in Olonpago, looking at this necklace. Shit, they wanted two hundred and fifty pesos for the damn thing. I was trying to get the price down, so I could buy it. Barnes comes in the store, sees the necklace, and pays what the man wanted. I got pissed and told him I was there first. The next day he puts me on this shit detail.”
The entire scenario didn’t sit right. “What did the necklace look like?”
“It looked like one of those Chinese coins, but it was gold with a bolt of lightning in the center. And it had small pearls around the outside. With the pearls and that gold chain on it, I knew my girl would go nuts.”
“Why would Mister Barnes want it?”
“Damned if I knew. He just walked in, pointed to it, and slapped down his money. Ask Flanders. He was there. He’ll tell you how Barnes acted like a total asshole.”
“Flanders was there with you?”
“No. He came in just after Barnes. He even got yelled at while Barnes was paying for the necklace.”
“Why? Did he stick up for you?”
“I didn’t hear what Flanders said. Barnes told him to watch his goddamn mouth or he’d write him up for disrespect to an officer.”
The speaker above our head crackled, “Petty Officer Coleman report to the XO’s office.”
Two more swipes of my blade and I threw the clean potato into the pot. I stood, balancing against a roll. When I pointed a finger at Sammy as if reminding him to behave himself, he simply shrugged and continued peeling.
Back on the main deck, I saw Flanders. “I understand you and Mister Barnes exchanged words a few days ago in Olongapo. What was it all about?”
His friendly smile flattened to wariness. “What are you talking about?”
“In the tourist shop. You mouthed off and he gave you a warning.”
Flanders shook his head. “Hell if I know. I was drunk every day in port.”
When I opened my office door, I found all four men busy. On my desk I found Teddy’s neatly typed report on the five seamen. I thanked him before heading to the XO’s.
My knuckles delivered two crisp knocks on the door before I entered officer’s country. The Captain worked on a stack of papers at the dining table. When I acknowledged myself, he nodded without looking up and I stepped around his chair. The curtains to the XO’s room stood open.
I cleared my throat and asked, “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Come in, Pencils.” He arranged papers on his small, fold-out desk top. “Did you get that information I wanted on the five seamen?”
“Yes, Sir. It’s right here.”
“Good. Have a seat.”
The room seemed dark and rather gloomy. The porthole over the bunk had been secured and covered. I sat in a straight-back chair while Mister Holcomb read through Teddy’s three page report.
During the fifteen-minute wait, I became aware of less ship movement. Obviously, we
had traveled out of the storm and into calmer seas. Like most sailors, I hated the tropical storms where the sun shined bright in a cloudless sky, but the wind howled at sixty knots, creating thirty to forty foot waves. Everything on a ship had to be sealed tight to prevent water seeping in. With the surface temperatures at eight-five degrees, below decks turned into ovens, intensifying all the obnoxious odors of machinery and men.
The XO set down the papers, rubbed his face with an open hand, and looked at me. “Pencils, I’m not good at interrogating the Enlisted. I don’t know if it’s me or the rank, but they seem to automatically clam up. This Jerry Mathews is an odd one. He probably wouldn’t give me the time of day. The other four would just sit here and shit their pants. I wouldn’t get a word out of them. But, we have to do something. Let’s get started. I’ll see Mathews first.”
My shoulders stiffened. “I’ve already talked to him, Sir.”
“What was that, Pencils?”
“I took it upon myself to start the investigation, Sir. I’ve talked to all five of the seaman . . . while that report was being typed.”
“Really. And, ah, do you have experience with this sort of thing?” I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or relieved.
“Yes, Sir. I’m from a family of cops and I was a police man.”
He frowned as if searching his memory, then blinked. “You were a cop for one year. I remember now, but surely you were only doing patrol duty.”
“Not, exactly, Sir. I started kinda young. My father took me with him when I was little. I sat in on a few minor investigations when he worked burglary. After I got my badge, I only worked the streets for a couple of months. My father then placed me in homicide.” His eyebrows shot up. “Before I quit the force, I sent three murder suspects to jail. I think I know a little about how to interrogate.”
Mister Holcomb rubbed his face again. “Interesting, Pencils, but you were a civilian cop. This is the military and to investigate a missing person at sea is a serious matter. Any one of these five sailors could have pushed Lt. Barnes over the side. Who knows? He could still be alive, tied and gagged in some storage compartment. Either way, the investigation has to be done quickly and thoroughly. It is my responsibility to find the whereabouts of the Lieutenant.”
Wave of Death Page 2