by Robert Lyon
Outside the library Janet is looking for a man to get her through the night. She is a desperately lonely woman, no playfulness left to her at all. With some hinting toward her circumstance she is nearly mistaken for a prostitute and is instead taken for a pan handler. The man she is speaking to has become leery and with an obvious degree of sympathy gestures toward us telling her, “maybe, they can help.”
There we stood gawking at the spectacle, Kim Luds, Chris
Marcy, and me. I immediately had images of skid row in
California with a foot of snow and wondered what would we do? She approached us and nearly slipped on ice in the road twice. Chris said, “This is our chance to just go…”
Kim replied, “Let’s just see what she says.”
“You guys wouldn’t happen to be lonely would you?” she asked, there was an awkward pause. We were totally dismayed; she was nearly old enough to be my mother and didn’t exactly have a porn stars body. She continued, “I’m sorry…I just can’t be out in this weather alone tonight.”
I said, “I can understand that, maybe we can set you up with something”. Just then her daughter stepped out of the library holding a young guys hand and she signaled her mother and her mother signaled back. “I’m going to be gone for a couple of days mom…” she interjected and hurried off with her new friend as her mother waved good bye and mouthed the words ‘met me here’.
“Well, my daughter found some one that will get her through the night, so I’m more relaxed…I may be able to take all three of you but I don’t take it in the butt.” Again we stood stunned. I said, “That’s okay…I actually meant we know of some programs and we should be able to set you up with something before the night comes.”
Chris loudly asked, “Does she…take it in the butt?” Kim and I looked at him shook or heads then looked at everybody starring at us. I said, “Maybe we should go inside the library and pull the books we’ll need.” There were about twelve homeless right there at the front of the library sitting on the steps wondering how bad this is going to get and trying to memorize our faces in the event the police start looking for the girls missing mother.
We went into the library after Janet explained she had an incident in the library and thought the librarians didn’t like her so she would stay outside. The library was comfortably warm and well lit but out of snow blindness it briefly seemed dimmer inside.
The police arrived with a bus to carry the homeless, about twenty, to the county services office. As Janet boarded the bus she asked us to keep an eye out for her daughter, and that she might be in the hospital for a while. It seems a police officer had been watching out for the two as much as he could without being intrusive and her condition had been preliminarily diagnosed as being mostly sleep deprivation with a chance of bipolar mania.
Andrea had slipped away with a college student that was friendly enough that the one other time he had been seen he explained he was only riding the bus since his car was being fixed and when the weather allowed he would prefer to walk
then ride the bus. He had mentioned to an older Hispanic guy there that he was on his way to pick up his car and he was going to help the girl out. “He seemed kind of protective or possessive, she looked like she was in love.” he told us and added, “…don’t worry about her plenty of fish in the sea” and he smiled. Later that night I noted there was something pleasant about a snow hushed Friday, not as much action as I would like but a good end of a hard week.
It had been a week of snowstorm surges and flurries, a minor nuisance on some days, a threat to everyone’s sense of security and a threat to general welfare for some others.
A lackadaisical mood had set in amongst the crew, feeling warm and cuddly by the fireside is sometimes just euphoria from hypothermia and at other times it is that you are genuinely comfortable and content. A restful demeanor in such a hostile workplace was a welcomed change.
Stuck on the ship as the snow flurries crashed into artic blasts and subsided again into flurries, we felt as though we were at the mercy of nature; not at all unlike being at sea and was a mind state sailors prized as their greatest asset.
The week of snow reached its crescendo on a Tuesday; drafts of snow wrapped around buildings in a swirl and left city streets looking like icy snow tunnels. The light from the street lights only carried just so far and pointed down, the end result was a very cavernous appearance.
The following morning the snow storm hadn’t let up. Roads had to be closed, power had been lost, and phone service was unavailable. Night workers were stuck in their places of business and many residents still tried to carry on with their normal routines, leading to people stuck in the snow in the road, and just off the road. Many crew members were absent, only the duty
section and those that lived aboard were present. We had received a few phone calls saying they couldn’t make it in leaving us with an apparent snow day.
There are however no snow days for the military. The local police didn’t have the appropriate equipment and it was actually illegal to hazard them in that manner, the same was true of county road services and maintenance. The National Guard could be called out by the governor’s office for public safety as well as the local military; they exist to be hazarded in that fashion and had the appropriate gear. The laws regarding private property did not stop at personal property but extend to company property and in the case of the electric company that was very relevant.
Snohomish county and King county were hit the hardest by the storm surges. It was only three feet on average but the snow drifts had gotten as high as five feet. The snow was expected to start to melt at about 10 A.M., but a second surge of the storm hit at about 10:30 A.M.
Mr. Mormus the Executive officer thought having the squids at home on a snow day was absurdly unrealistic and told them if they were unable to find their way into work we would be picking them up from their homes. He considered this a priority as we suspected more phone services would be lost and there was already a significant portion of the crew unaccounted for.
The police had called in asking what personnel and equipment we had available. The steep slope of the road just in front of the base required four wheel drive in their estimation, though I did manage to get my front wheel drive car up the hill only slipping slightly where I hit snow that wasn’t still powder.
We started looking for what we had and what legal provisions
we had to clear as much of the roads as possible. Crew members stuck at home with no electricity and young children had said they may need their entire family picked up.
Captain Armitus however, was looking forward to a snow day himself. The officers in general saw no need for their presence at work that day. The majority of the enlisted followed that lead. There is however always work to be done on a ship.
Life at sea is hard and only stops when you’re dead or discharged.
Painting the ship was a continuous ongoing project, navy gray…a nice contrast to those snowy white caped mountains on the horizon. The engine rooms and auxiliary machinery rooms had all the maintenance requirements of an entire fleet of shipping trucks and vans all compressed into one location, a ship.
The ship had a well-diversified work group, when the water pipe in the overhead of the helo hanger ruptured the hull technicians welders lead by HT1 Hefter just needed a ‘go ahead’ from someone willing to take responsibility. I gave that ‘go ahead’ in the face of the executive officer that was unsure of their competence and just what had caused their uncertainty as to whether or not it was ships force organizational level work or shore intermediate maintenance activity level work or, perhaps even depot level shipyard work. This is the worst form of bureaucracy…the ‘I’m pretty sure this is someone else’s job’ bureaucracy.
We found more of that same attitude with various public services regarding this unprecedented weather, but as the U.S.
Military we had service members from all over the country and I myself had experienced a negative seventy-
three degree winter
accounting for wind chill factor while stationed in great lakes
Illinois; to us it was a simple lack of organization.
Armed with various legal books we began scripting a response to the situation. Being a non-commissioned officer at this command was very much becoming the paralegal role that non-com was always intended to be.
We contacted the governs office with our briefing and the first person we spoke with, a secretary, actually asked if we were suing the governor, as seriously as possible we redirected her, explaining that the scenario was being faxed as we spoke.
We drew heavily upon our experiences at naval ship yard long beach, the closing of that based had caused all manner of protest. When we went to be issued our shipyard badges we were warned that the FA designation indicating Forces Afloat might draw hostility from the yard workers since the admiral had decided to close the base. Many crew members and officers acquired other designations ADM indicating Administrator was taken by many officers; this actually restricted their access to the base and even the ship especially during off hours. Several enlisted to ORD designation which indicated Ordnance civilian contractor.
Given that warning and being very aware that the base was being closed by the congressional appropriations committee, sub-committee for base closures I took the FA designation signifying I was still navy. Attributes that I developed on my first ship were die-hard and cast in brass.
Preparing for the worst was just my cup of tea, and after what seemed to be a lifetime of heart break I was ready for someone to tempt my rage by coming at me misinformed and violent. The picket lines formed first on base right at the pier sentry point of the dry dock. They expected the admiral to
reconsider. Personally, I had no understanding of how they came to believe that that level of authority existed in an admiral’s position. Their apparent naiveté was compounded by the unusually high concentration of military veterans in this civilian work place. I would later learn most service members that complete uneventful service never have the first clue about how things really worked.
We first informed them of their right to protest was not exercisable on a military installation. “Since when…” an angry man shouted not two inches from my face, “…no, since when. I was in the marine corps…” I interjected, “You were in the
Marine Corps and you believe an admiral can shut down this base and shut down its budget, on his own authority; and that civilians can bring a picket line style protest right on base; interfering with the operations of the United States military?” I asked in a very authoritative manner.
He replied in angry confusion, “Well…no. Hey, but we’re the United States military!”
I looked him up and down obviously assessing him and his statement and asked, “Do you remember how happy you were when you got out? Huh, no more working for idiots just because they out rank you? Having no say even in your own personal life?”
“Your god damn right I do!” he yelled and I calmly replied,
“And, the reason those things changed is because you are no long the military.”
With a tone of defeat, having realized he was speaking to active duty that was still tasked like some kind of slave he respond, “Damn it. I just need a job”
“The protest…” I said calmly as a representative of an organization larger than just my life, “Must happen off base.
This petition you have passed around going to an admiral is hopeless, it has to go to your district congressmen or senator; otherwise you would be giving it to some other districts representative and Massachusetts will not likely understand how they are relevant to a navy base closing in California.”
A middle aged woman with all the wear and tear of having worked as a wielder leaned forward pushing her face out amongst the crowd and said, “So we just give up then…is that what you would do?”
I replied, “Thank you for being so passive aggressive it’s as though you are a member of this crew…No, you don’t give up. I am however warning you that it has to be done lawfully and getting the base to stay open is literally an act of congress.”
“An act of congress…” She retorted. I replied, “Yes, the appropriations committee, sub-committee for base closure.”
To which, with a dismissive turn of the head she said, “I think that’s actually the senate honey, but I get what you mean.”
At that point they disbanded, but then that was the ones in front of a large crowd. Those in the back of the crowd were less inclined to be intellectual about things and violent outburst hit the crowd. Fortunately base security had been on scene for about twenty minutes.
A loud male voice erupts from the scuffle, “So the military tells us what to do now? What are we at, martial law!?” To which a security officer of the base, a second class petty officer loudly voice in reply, “Martial law means military rule…this is a military base; a navy base and you have been under martial law on this base as long as you have worked here.”
Those directly in the scuffle were arrested by base security and detained until they calmed down at which point they were fired. The protestors move just off base to the other side of the
gate. Many of them called out to people they knew still on base and asked them to tell their bosses, whom they specifically named, that they quit.
Our days in long beach were not entirely uneventful.
I went out to the pier and stood there, the snow was up to my knees. The phone call to the governor’s office went well and our personnel chief was onboard and faxing the scenario to the governor’s office. The weather hadn’t been this bad in a decade, even the locals were awestruck. Once again I wondered how far back in social and technical development I had slipped by being transferred to another duty station; I often joked that it was a matter of time travel serving in the navy.
“The fax went through, guess were going to martial law..?” said Athena, she continued, “Shitty day to have duty”. I struck a reserved pose, “I would rather have duty today snowed in then the day after tomorrow when it will likely be out of the way…and, it’s not martial law it’s just legal stuff.” I said.
Athena had been standing messenger of the watch since 7:45am; it was now about 2pm. She was cute and friendly and responded well to my flirtatious attitude so long as there was no one else around to think anything of it. “Well, I’d be making a snowman or snow angel or something…they were out here earlier having a snowball fight, even the X.O.”
I looked at her with an amorous smile and said, “At least someone is having fun.”
She asked, “What do we have to do with all of this legal stuff you’re doing?” and she gestured with her hands as though she was rolling her hand in coil of yarn.
I replied, “Restoring electricity, clearing roads, and getting everyone here to work; it’s mostly national guard territory though.”
“Oh...” she replied with a hint of disappointment.
I said, “You could call for a working party to clear the pier with whatever we have that’s close to a snow shovel.”
She looked at me with a smirk and grabbed my bicep and said,
“sounds like good job for you…your only a third Rob. Unless you have something better to do..?”
I responded slightly more authoritatively, “You mean like all this legal researching and phone calls, and determining jurisdictions and legal obligations and paper work I’m doing now?”
She responded as though I didn’t get the joke or didn’t fall for the ploy and said, “Whatever”. I followed her up the steps and across the brow back up to the ship.
We were waiting for confirmation of the orders and instructions we planned to send the National Guard and the local police, as well as the authorization to access and use the county snow plows and the authority to effect repairs to power lines and switching stations belonging to the electric company. As I left I said, “I’ll be down in central.”
Branson was standing petty officer of the watch and ask
ed
Athena, “What was he talking about?” She replied, “Lyon’s doing a bunch of legal work for the captain to get the roads cleared.”
Branson laughed, “Nice choice they hate each other.”
Athena replied, “I wish they got along better Lyon’s a nice guy…” and with a shrug she added, “but, he’s an engineer.”
Branson was a first class boatswain’s mate and the leading petty officer of the deck division. The first class petty officers were to function as foremen and Branson was one of the few that played that roll correctly; many others thought they had
obtained a rank which signified they weren’t supposed to actually work anymore.
“So what do you have deck doing today?” Athena asked.
Branson replied, “Don’t start that Williams; I run my crew.”
Athena pulled her panties out of her crotch and with a sigh said, “Well, if Lyon’s stuff goes through we’ll be coordinating natural disaster relief efforts with multiple agencies and I don’t want to look like a stupid bitch when they come to arrest him for going to martial law and that’s what the captain said he would do.”
Branson was startled and asked, “Does he know that?”
Athena respond, “The captain said not to say anything and honestly back in long beach they butted heads then too. This time the captain said, ‘I guess GSM3 Lyon knows what to do....’ but no third class knows what to do...”
Branson replied, “Stay out of this Williams… Lyon may know what to do; I’ve been on bridge watch and the captain is just a guy”
With a degree of irritation Athena responded, “You mean
‘just a Captain’ Branson…I’m gonna go get a soda” as she walked away Branson shouted to her, “Hey, Athena I used to be just like you…then I grew up. Oh, and I am a first class”.