The President

by Parker Hudson

  “No, sir,” said the president’s younger brother. “I met Lieutenant Slocum this morning, and she and I are set to meet again right after we break here. She’s had quite a bit of experience at shore-based facilities and a missile range, but of course she’s never served on a warship before. She seems ready to go, and she wears her uniform really well, by the way,” he added.

  “Thank you, Hugh,” said Commander Anglin, “but please watch comments like that from now on. We’ve all got to learn not to make remarks about how anyone looks, so we don’t offend anyone.”

  “Sure, sure,” said Hugh, obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. But I can assure you that a lot of the men are going to share that opinion.”

  “Opinions we can have. Expressions we’ve got to watch. Especially the officers and chiefs. Now let’s talk about our new dual department, the Admin and Ship’s Store personnel.

  “Thomas, Bill, and Henry, as you’ve probably already seen, we’ve taken the old Admin berthing space and part of First Division to wind up with two spaces and two separate heads for the homosexuals and lesbians. As I understand it we’ve got twelve homosexuals, seven lesbians, and a homosexual chief, right?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re due here in two weeks,” replied Henry Early, the administrative officer.

  “I think the work’ll be finished by then,” Commander Anglin said. “We’ve bumped two ensigns out of a stateroom in after officers country so the chief will have an officer’s stateroom very near to the homosexual head.”

  “Why can’t Chief Osborn just use the chiefs head right behind officers country?” asked Dobbs.

  “Again, because we’ve got sixteen chiefs sharing that head, and I don’t think they want a homosexual mixed in with them.”

  “Oh, come on, sir. Chief Osborn is just like everybody else. We’ve had homosexuals in the navy for years and years. Chief Osborn isn’t going to bite them, and for that matter, neither am I.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Dobbs, I’m doing the best I can with what I consider to be a difficult situation. When things get tough, I’ve found the best policy is to follow orders. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m supposed to give all the homosexuals, heterosexual women, and lesbians their own heads whenever possible, and that’s what I’m doing. And I would frankly ask you, except in an emergency, to use them exclusively, for the sake of the other men on the ship and for your own sake as well.

  “Now, as to the new Admin personnel themselves, my only concern is that they’re berthed so close to First Division, where traditionally some of our youngest and least experienced men start out. I just hope there won’t be any problems.

  “We’re all going to do our best to ‘sensitize’ the crew, but we’ve occasionally had problems in the past just mixing white country boys and black guys from the big cities. We’re going to try hard to work through this transition. Thomas, yesterday we all reviewed the affirmative action video you brought with you, and I’m not sure it will really help. In fact, it might hurt.”

  “I’m surprised you would say that,” said Dobbs, still smarting from the executive officer’s earlier words. “It’s been used for many years in college dormitories to sensitize residence hall counselors on how homosexual love is really quite normal.”

  “But I’m not sure that showing videos to the crew—many of whom are still boys—of men engaging in homosexual acts is very helpful, either for them or for what we’re trying to accomplish here.”

  “Why not?” asked Dobbs. “It’s been proven to be a completely normal lifestyle. What’s the problem?”

  Hugh, thinking about his last mistake with Commander Anglin, refrained from saying he found the video repulsive.

  The executive officer thought for a few moments and appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “Well, for starters, many of the crew will think it’s perverse and grotesque. On top of that, I’m not sure that showing any type of erotic material helps any of us when we have five hundred people crammed into a ship less than five hundred feet long. And there might just be some jealousy, thinking that the guys in that division are having a great time together, while the rest of us suffer on a six-month deployment. I guess those are the first three reasons that pop into my head. I could probably think of others if you gave me more time.”

  “I’d like to ask you a question, please,” interrupted Lieutenant Commander Perry Colangelo, the engineering officer. “I’ve already had two of my young men who grew up in the Bible Belt, and one young man from an Italian family like mine in New York, ask me about these changes and why we’re bringing men and women on board who openly violate the laws of most states, not to mention God’s laws as well.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Dobbs.

  “No, please, tell me what you think I should say,” continued Colangelo, “when a young man reminds me that the Bible says homosexuality is wrong, and here we are promoting it in the United States Navy?”

  “Just tell him the truth,” replied Dobbs. “Tell him the Bible was written thousands of years ago and contains many myths that are obviously untrue and/or irrelevant to today’s life.”

  “So as an officer in the United States Navy, I’m supposed to tell a young Christian man that he is not supposed to believe the Bible?”

  “I’m not going to get into this kind of argument with you,” Dobbs said. “Congress and the president have acted, and whatever some backward states or the outdated Bible may say, the law of the land is clear. Homosexuality is a natural and normal lifestyle, and not to be discriminated against. So tell those men whatever you want, but be sure you also tell them to keep their opinions—and particularly their actions—to themselves.” Turning to Commander Anglin at the end of the table, he asked, “Do you really think there may be some problems, particular with First Division?”

  Anglin again paused and appeared to weigh his words. “I certainly hope not. But these young men are from very diverse backgrounds and very diverse beliefs. I guess that’s why CNO is running these two experiments: to find out what may or may not happen. You can bet there’s going to be a lot of attention. And a lot of wives at home worried about their men off on a ship for six months with women and homosexuals.”

  “You mean they’ll be afraid that the ship’s homosexual barber might seduce their husbands?” Dobbs laughed.

  “Not really. I think they’ll be more concerned about the women on board. But I would imagine there are some parents who are worried about their eighteen-and nineteen-year-old boys.”

  “Look,” Dobbs said, straightening up in his chair, “I have to submit a report about this ‘experiment’ as you call it, plus reports on all of the department heads on the ship. Frankly, I’m disappointed by this first meeting, and I don’t appreciate many of the remarks. So I’m telling you all right now in no uncertain terms that I don’t appreciate bigots, and I’ll be on the lookout for bigoted remarks, particularly from the senior officers.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Hugh. “Is this the U.S. Navy or the old Soviet Navy? I don’t remember studying political correctness or mind control in my four years at Annapolis.”

  “And that’s just the kind of remark I don’t appreciate,” retorted the operations officer, his face turning red. “You obviously are a bigot!”

  Hugh leaned forward, his disgust obvious. But before he could speak, he was interrupted.

  “Hold on a minute,” said Anglin, his voice also rising. “Whatever else you may be, Thomas, you’re first and foremost a naval officer. You asked a question, and I answered it as best I could. I didn’t make a bigoted remark, and Hugh has a point, although he might have chosen different words. All of us will be writing reports on this ‘experiment’—and that’s exactly what the CNO himself calls it. So please, Thomas, don’t threaten us with statements like that. I can assure you we’re all going to do our best to make this situation work. We’ve got our orders and will carry them out.” Looking around at the other department heads, the executive officer concluded, “And I assure you that you�
��ll have one hundred percent cooperation from us. But I’m simply predicting that it won’t be easy.”

  Dobbs started to say something, his face still red, but stopped, apparently thinking better of it. He simply nodded, but it was obvious to everyone that he was not pleased.

  Thirty minutes later there was a knock on Hugh Harrison’s stateroom door. “Come in,” he said loud enough to be heard over the background noise that was always present on the ship, even when tied to the pier. The door opened and Lieutenant Teri Slocum came in. Without thinking, Hugh stood up, then quickly swallowed the smile that started to form. Embarrassed by his own good manners and natural reaction to a beautiful younger woman now sharing a very small space with him, he motioned for her to be seated in the second chair, turned ninety degrees to his, and they sat down together, only a foot apart.

  “Are you getting everything unpacked?” he asked. As unprofessional as he knew it was, he could not help noticing her eyes, which seemed to sparkle, her short-cropped brunette hair, and her shapely legs, which were almost touching his knees. Whoa! he said to himself. You’re a happily married man with three kids. This is just the new fire control officer. Take it easy.

  She smiled, and her eyes seemed to sparkle even more. “Yes, that’s a nice stateroom. I’ve met William Hatcher, the supply officer, and Henry Early, the...uh...Admin Officer, who are berthing in the stateroom next to me. The other two guys are on leave, but I’m sure the five of us will get along just fine. I’ll try not to take too much time in the head!” She laughed.

  He laughed, too. “Well, good. I’m glad. If you have any questions or problems, of course, just ask. I know you must feel this is quite a responsibility, being the missile fire control officer on your first time at sea. I recommend you spend as much time as you can with our two chiefs before they leave. I think we’ve arranged it so your chief’s and the outgoing chiefs will have a three-day overlap to go through the turn-over procedure.”

  Slocum turned slightly in her chair and crossed her legs. “That’ll be very helpful. Thanks.”

  Hugh stood and walked over to a shelf, where he picked up several books. He handed them to her. “Here are our weapons department manuals.” Then he sat down again. “I’d like to spend some time now briefing you on all the changes that we’re going through, not just with your new personnel but with everything else as well. I suspect the next eighteen months are going to require some patience, tolerance, and flexibility from all of us.”

  Lieutenant Slocum leaned forward to put the weapons department manuals on the deck by her chair, almost brushing him with her hair and affording him a glance at her cleavage, since her shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. And maybe we should only allow cold water in the showers, Hugh thought. Very cold. What on earth are we getting ourselves into?

  Teri opened her notepad, took out her pen, smiled, recrossed her legs, and said, “Okay. Shoot.”

  ATLANTA—That same April afternoon had been one of the first really warm ones of the year in Atlanta. Rebecca and her boyfriend, Bruce Tinsley, decided to share a bottle of white wine on the balcony of her apartment overlooking the city. It was her day off, since she had worked the previous Sunday. One of the first Atlanta Braves games of the new season was on television, playing quietly behind them in the living room.

  “I always feel better during the half of the year when baseball is being played,” Rebecca said, taking a sip of her wine and looking out at the skyline that seemed to jut into the darkening sky. “It’s such a great sport. You can either concentrate and watch every move, nuance, and shift, or you can just let it be there in the background for three hours, drifting in and out as things happen. I’ve always loved baseball.”

  “I would never have guessed that,” said Bruce, reaching for the chilled bottle to refill both their glasses. “How did you get into baseball?”

  “I guess from being in the middle between two brothers. There was always a game going on somewhere. I watched William play when he was in high school, and I remember teaching Hugh how to bat from a tee. You know, I’m thankful to have Courtney, my daughter; but I always wanted a boy, too. At forty-four, though, I’ve about run out of time.” She sighed and looked off in the distance.

  Bruce didn’t know what to say. He enjoyed his relationship with Rebecca, particularly since she was the president’s younger sister. As a securities broker he had already felt the benefits from being able to tell his clients brief anecdotes about the president, even though they had not yet met. But he was not ready to consider marriage to Rebecca, and her occasional talk about wanting another child worried him. He could hear her biological clock ticking, and he decided to change the subject.

  “Well, I’m really looking forward to meeting your brothers and the rest of your family this weekend.” He took another sip of his wine. “But are you really sure I should go to Camp David? I mean, this will be your family, with husbands, wives, and children. Won’t I sort of be the fifth wheel?”

  Rebecca seemed to come back from wherever she had been, turned, smiled, and reached for his hand. “No, no. Believe me, you’ll be welcome. Yes, I imagine nearly everyone will be there, but I want to show you off!” She smiled even more and squeezed his hand.

  “I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he said and grinned. “But from what you tell me about Mary, I may not be able to stomach all of her Christian fundamentalism.”

  “Oh, she’s actually very sweet and has always been sort of like a second mom for Hugh and me. She and Graham have raised three great kids, and now thanks to my nephew Jonathan, she’s even a grandmother. She just ‘got religion’ as a teenager, I guess, and it’s stuck. And, whatever else you might say, she certainly ‘walks her talk.’ She’ll always let you know what she thinks—or I guess what she thinks God thinks—but she’s nice. I promise you she’ll be okay.”

  “Well, I just can’t stand these in-your-face Christians who’re always pushing their beliefs on the rest of us.” Bruce took another sip from his wineglass and continued, “I mean, anybody with two cells in their brain knows that abortion is a woman’s right; that someone in terminal pain should be able to decide to end his or her life; and that homosexuality is an acceptable way of life, just like it was for my brother. I mean, where were his Christian ‘friends’ when he got sick? They deserted him. His church voted to expel him. Can you imagine how that crushed him? I saw it. But these people just keep talking about ‘sin’ and ‘evil’ and all that garbage. If your sister starts with any of that stuff, I don’t know if I can take it. I just get so angry when these fundamentalists hold back progress.”

  “Look,” Rebecca said, rubbing her hand up and down Bruce’s forearm, “the last thing I want to do is defend any of Mary’s more farfetched ideas, but I must say that the ‘progress’ you’re espousing is not always what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, turning toward her.

  “I mean it’s not.” She withdrew her hand. “Whether or not you believe what Mary believes, just look around. Life is not as simple as you sometimes make it, Bruce. I can’t explain it like Mary does, but I see it every day at the hospital.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, take, for example, the supposedly safe, improved morning-after abortion pill. It was finally approved for general use almost three years ago, and it was supposed to end the need for abortion clinics and all that confrontation stuff on the sidewalks.”

  He nodded.

  “Despite what you might have read in the newspapers, the reality is not so wonderful.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, unlike the first French abortion pill, this one, as you know, doesn’t have to be taken under a doctor’s direct supervision. You only have to have a prescription, so everyone who can afford to has these pills. I mean men and women. For a while it was fashionable for women to carry condoms in their purses. Now men carry morning-after pills in their wallets.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Do you have one?”r />
  He sheepishly nodded.

  She continued. “The result is that everybody’s having unprotected sex. Women who were afraid of the side effects of the birth-control pill have stopped taking them. Condoms are no longer ‘cool.’ And so the net result overall—seemingly much to the experts’ surprise—is a lot more drug-induced abortions, a huge increase in venereal disease, and a spike in AIDS again in the heterosexual population, just when it had appeared to be leveling off.”

  She took another sip of wine, and Bruce avoided direct eye contact, turning instead toward the city. She waited for him to reply. When he was silent, she added, “And on top of all that, there are rip-off, bootleg drug companies putting cheap lookalike pills on the street for unsuspecting lower income families. So we’re seeing a sharp increase in what I’d call unexpected pregnancies. Women think they’re taking a morning-after pill, but it doesn’t work as advertised, so the number of women going to abortion clinics now that the new national health system will pay for abortions has actually increased, not decreased.”

  She paused again and then concluded, “So that’s what I mean by saying that progress is not always what it’s cracked up to be.”

  Bruce turned back to her, obviously annoyed. “Rebecca, I’ve never heard you talk like this before. If you think that way, I can’t imagine what Mary is like. Thank God William is interested in real progress, not just peripheral issues.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight,” Rebecca said. “It’s a beautiful evening, and I want us to have a great weekend together. But I don’t consider what I just described to you as ‘peripheral.’ In fact, I think the consequences of the morning-after pill are getting worse and worse. And you’ve got to realize that for me this is not a sterile political issue. This is a real life problem that I have to deal with every day at the hospital. With real people going through real pain, and suffering real loss.”