by Robert Lyon
Athena yelled back, “I wasn’t saying you didn’t know what to do…” Branson waved her off and she headed down to get a soda from the vending machines on the main deck near the ships store.
The Officer of the deck was the ships supply senior chief and he poked his head out from the midship’s quarter deck to the podium at the gang plank. He asked Branson, “She being surly again?”
Branson responded clearly and calmly as possible, “No, senior…” and with a degree of youth demeanor gestured with a shrug of his shoulders and continued, “…It’s just me and her…it’s a black thing.”
Senior chief Walson tends to turn very pale when things like that are said and looking white as a sheet he said, “…Oh, okay” Soon after that he received a call from the personnel office, the reply fax had been received.
The personnel man Chief petty officer Casius walked up to the quarter deck to hand the sign and verified orders to the officer of the deck. “There it is…” She said, “martial law. What the hell does he think he’s playing at!”
Senior Chief Walson read over the papers. Chief Casius growled, “Look at all the authority he now has…and it’s on his name not the captains because he called for special deputization by the D.O.D.!”
Walson replied, “Well, that may not sound right but there it is.” and in anger and disbelief Casius retorted, “He’s just a third class! Why would anyone take anything he says seriously? I know the captain doesn’t.”
Branson interjected from just outside the quarter deck doors at the gang plank, “That may be why we fail so many engineering certifications chief.” Casius moved to make eye contact with Branson and said, “The captain does those. He decides if we pass or fail.”
Branson shrugged and said, “Look chief, first classes talk and Hudlow, Lyon’s first class says that we end up failing after
Lyon has already shown them how to do it by the manual and then the captain says he isn’t going to do it Lyon’s way.”
Casius replied, “Chiefs talk too. Well, let him know to start his way down his war path. Oh, wait I’ll do it.” Chief Casius
took the mic for the ships general announcing system, the 1MC, and keyed it, “For the information of all hands, Lyon is on the war path. Gsm3 Lyon your orders are on the quarter deck.” Just then she looked over at the OOD and the Petty officer of the watch expecting a reassuring satisfied look, instead she saw shock. She giggled and said, “I can’t believe I just did that.”
As soon as I arrived I used the 1MC myself, “This is Lyon on the quarter deck…I am not on the warpath, we do however have orders regarding the weather and reestablishing road service and electrical service. I am, currently specially deputized by the department of defense. That is all.”
After reviewing the orders to make sure there were no changes in the script, the game of phone tag began. First was the
National Guard; the governors’ office had already made introductory phone calls and they were awaiting my call. We had to acquire some runway clearing gear from the Marine
Corps. We messaged them from Combat information central.
They replied, “C’mon it isn’t that bad” with a laugh and continued, “We’ll get it over there.” As it turned out ‘runway clearing gear’ was a couple of bulldozers, but the flatbed truck that got it to us was larger than standard hauling trucks. They were to drop them off with the local nation guard unit and a
‘contingent’ which we referred to as a ‘detail’ from the base.
“How soon do these have to be back?” National guard
Sergeant Kleason asked. Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Blake responded, “Hell, it’s the navy’s game. Don’t know why they aren’t out here. I hear some E-4 is pulling strings…” Blake took on an intimidating demeanor and continued, “Can’t wait to see those strings break, we’re freezing our butts off out here.”
Kleason replied, “So just don’t worry about it then?” Blake
responded, “No…ahh, we’ll probably be sent to pick them up.
Good luck”
Captain Artimus arrived at the quarter deck and asked
Branson, “So…I had to come in because I couldn’t make it in?
Where’s Lyon’s chief?” Branson replied, “Not sure his chief made it in either sir, he’s been working with the X.O.” Captain
Artimus stood there waiting for something other than disgust or rage to be conjugated in his head, he glanced up to the bridge wing thinking he had never seen this level of anal retentiveness in his whole career and having made captain he should have been spared any exposure at all. He then looked back to BM1
Branson and said, “I want to see Lyon’s chief by the end of the day.”
Captain Artimus headed up to his stateroom and the messenger of the watch Athena Williams called for the X.O. to contact the quarter deck over the 1MC, “Lieutenant commander
Mormus please contact the quarter deck.”
The phone on the quarter deck rang, BM1 Branson answered, “Quarter deck” Mr. Mormus was on the other end,
“This is the X.O. what did you call me for?” Branson answered back, “You called us sir...” Mormus was up in his stateroom with that answer his hand started trembling and he broke into a sweat. “…Sir?” Branson asked. Mormus took a deep breath to calm himself from his instant homicidal rage and said, “Look you fucking idiot, you called for me to contact the quarter deck over the 1MC…call me in my state room when you jackasses have found a clue.” and Mormus hung up.
Branson slowly walked over to Williams and said, “Did you pass something over the 1MC?” Williams replied, “Ya, did the X.O. call?” Branson starred at her nonchalantly going through the deck log and reading anything she could find. It was
that long slow ‘is this really happening’ stare. “Ahh, ya he did…” Branson uttered. Williams asked, “What’d he say?”
Branson responded, “Don’t…Don’t use the 1MC without letting me know.” Williams responded, “Geez, okay…what’d he say?”
Branson, still starring in shock replied, “Why don’t you call him and find out?” Williams said, “Okay.”
Williams picked up the phone inside the midship’s quarter deck and dialed the X.O.’s stateroom. The bakelite handset dangling in her hand, the ships technology was downright nostalgia inspiring in some systems, just plain antiquated in others. The X.O. answered, “This is the X.O.” Williams responded, “Hi, sir. It’s Athena on the quarterdeck. I was calling to let you know the captain made it in…looks like the National
Guard dropped by to give him a lift. And, he wants to see Chief
Carl by the end of the day.” The X.O. replied,
“Williams…which watch are you standing?” She replied,
“Messenger of the watch sir, why?” The X.O. continued, “And which watch is Branson standing?” Williams said, “Petty officer of the watch.”
The X.O. paused in contemplation the sound of his fingers drumming his desk top were briefly audible over the phone. He said, “Okay.” and abruptly hung up the phone. Williams heard the click and played with the tangled cord as the handset once again dangled in her hand, resting her legs by leaning on the angled desk top attached to the bulkhead. She softly sighed and looked back at the door to the brow, and called out to Branson,
“Hey, Branson…where’s the watchbill?” Branson replied, “It’s out here.”
The snow flurries started up again but the heater running inside the quarter deck and their pea coats were enough, but then
those pea coats were the envy of all the branches of military service, that and all the shoreline.
Sergeant Kleason was running a twelve man team clearing the roads in two separate locations calling the ship with updates and asking for specific locations of priority. Our main priority was actually set to the bus routes with a slight detour to roads the ships personnel and base personnel needed cleared. The radio calls were every fifteen minutes. “Kleason to U.S.S. Paul
F. Foster…”
came across a ridiculously large handheld radio with absolute clarity as Mr. Mormus stepped through the hatchway into Central control. I stood at the island table top on the damage control central side of the space adjacent to the consoles for power and propulsion; I was reviewing the street maps and comparing them to topographic maps as well as comparing weather reports to a farmer’s almanac. “I’m glad you’re doing something vaguely relevant Lyon…Who’s
Kleason?” asked Mormus. I replied, “He’s here on the list sir, national guard sergeant. He’s the one I spoke to about the roads;
I faxed him these.”
I showed Mr. Mormus the list of priority roads and electrical switching stations. Just then chief Casius stepped in and said, “The governors’ office just called and wants a status update sir.” Mr. Mormus retorted, “She’s talking to you Lyon.” I replied, “Aye sir, thank you chief.”
I called the Governors’ office and spoke with a young woman named April. She said she didn’t want any ‘fucking around’ and was already getting calls about a military cue da ta in progress. “Mr. Lyon,” she said, “There’s already been an incident with one of your guardsman refusing to allow a man to visit her sister in the nursing home and she suffers a low grade of dementia, without her brothers visits the nursing staff become
quite irritated.” I replied, “April we are doing what we can as quickly as we can and there was an expectation to some degree of paranoia”. She responded, “This is not paranoia Mr. Lyon, this is the military overstepping its bounds. I once worked as a
C.N.A. at a nursing home myself. You will correct this issue.”
I retorted, “The issue I will and am correcting April, is loss of electricity and the roads being closed”. April hesitated and continued, “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, Mr. Lyon…Rob; get it done quickly and quietly as we planned.” I said, “It’s as good as done.” That ended our conversation, most of the roads were cleared and the navy detail was finishing up resetting breakers in the switching stations with one change out of a transformer pending.
I headed back to Central where the X.O. still had the radio.
“Did you get the message Lyon?” Mr. Mormus asked. I answered, “Yes sir, ‘get it done and quietly’; by our standards it wasn’t even an incident.” Mr. Mormus looked a little surprised and glanced down at the radio checking the channel switch and looked back at me, he asked, “That was the message?” I replied,
“Yes sir, I may need that radio…or is it a satellite phone?”
Mormus responded, “It’s a whole damn radio station Lyon.”
Then he keyed the radio, “Kleason…forget everything I just said.” Kleason replied, “Understood.”
I passed the X.O. my notes from the phone call and updated the notes on the map as to the incident report. Mr. Mormus keyed the radio, “He’s asking for status updates every fifteen minutes.” Kleason called back with a buzz from the radio, “All the listed roads are complete; Navy is restoring power to one remaining neighborhood and they’re not under my direction, by the orders sent by you Lyon I am to secure my operation and head in…and Lyon, how about a god damn ten four once in a
while?” I responded, “Operation complete and secured...ten four” the radio buzzed again as the battery was dyeing as it gave his retort, “Kleason out”. I keyed the radio, “Lyon ten seven” and set the radio down. Mormus pointed at the radio and as he turn to walk out said, “Don’t lose…ten seven? …Don’t lose that.”
Navy electrician mates were tending to a switching station after ice had brought down a power line causing the breaker to trip. EM1 Haydel had the lead and when a news crew showed up she was cold, confused, and befuddled. “Can you tell us what you’re doing here?” The news reporter asked. He was dressed for the cold until they started transmitting and he dropped his coat. There he stood in a three piece suit with a red nose and ice in his eye brows. Haydel responded, “What are you doing here?”
The news report Tim Flanely gave a disapproving glare and inquired more demandingly, “Please, tell us what you are doing here.” and he gestured pointing at his shoes. Everyone there was suffering cold shock and a degree of hypothermia, Haydel in shock said, “I guess I’m doing my job…What the hell are you doing here?!” Tim replied, “I am also doing my job, little miss.
Tell me what is your job?” Haydel scoffed and called for another member of the detail. They all called out to her, “we’re nearly done; you deal with it.” Tim saw this and her outrage, and taunted her by saying, “I guess you’re not in charge here, maybe
I should ask one of the fellas…” Haydel still in shock decided to handle things differently. She smiled widely and said, “Well,
I’m here freezing my ass off, having my period, and talking to a jack ass.” As it happens, that was the only part that made it on
T.V. and the news room mocked the ‘Heroes of the destroyer,
Foster’ openly on air for the remainder of the day.
Once power was restored, the detail returned to the ship and Haydel said she wasn’t talking to any more dicks today.
With that I notified the governor’s office the mission was complete and power had been restored to a couple of locations and all the necessary affected roads had been cleared.
The entire ship was in anxious posture, it seemed these matters which ruled out spending time on the route days’ work would persist until the storm let up. Instead, with the captain dragged in, the X.O. looking to keep things military, and the command master chief asleep in the chief’s mess, it was back to normal shipboard life.
The engineering plant was preparing for an evaluation of safety and readiness, which the officers repeatedly mistook for some sort of barracks and uniform inspection; “Work it may, shine it must”. This perspective wasn’t held by the executive officer, one analogous reference to an emissions inspection on a vehicle for smog certification with an egotistical owner demanding that ‘it is his car, he is paying for the inspection, he is giving up his time, and there for demands that he be complimented on how shiny his hood ornament is and given a passing certificate’; was all it took to eliminate any further miscommunication. There was however a lot of resentment from his subordinates, it wasn’t what they had ever hoped for during their ‘prior to service’ fantasies and they were still coming to terms with the notion of the captain being at the wheel never ever happens.
With the recent publicity we had made our political enemies within the navy. To some it was a question of “who are they to have stolen the lime light?” and for others it was a matter of “If that is the exemplary navy unit then by god we will make sure they reflect only the best of the navy!”
In my view it wasn’t that the standards had been raised it was simply that they were finally being adhered to. All too often political hand washing and backscratching was the law of the land. I was immune as an enlisted E-4 with no desire to be promoted or to seek any kind of career out of the circus I found myself trapped in.
Chapter Two
The new old standard
The snow has settled throughout our area of responsibility, and despite the winter wonderland effect there is an ‘aftermath’ feeling amongst the crew. Navy legal department; naval station
Everett; has formed a watch station in anticipation of various legal charges and complaints that simply put would have happened immediately if it were going to happen at all, but show boating and grandiosity has been ‘Navy’ since those original immigrants came to change this land. A ‘nation of immigrants’ is a label in common usage due to the concepts of immigration reform being argued in courts and on the senate floor. We here languish in the rhetoric and correct the phraseology, that it was in fact a ‘nation of sailors’.
Much like merchant marine ships, navy ships have a minimum underway time per fiscal quarter and a training cycle that must be maintained for the ships certifications to remain current. Ice had been forming inside the hull just below the water line, this was our excuse to set to sea and lea
ve the lawyers in their drama class.
Captain Artimus was going to hold a meeting of all commissioned officers followed by a ‘sit down’ with the chief petty officers. “I’m glad you made it in today” Artimus announced from the head of the ward room table. Mr. Mormus commented, “It was the least I could do.” Artimus retorted,
“And, your good at that.” the snarky infliction was not unnoticed by anyone seated there. “We could be appreciating the severity of the weather from the comfort of our own homes, instead we find ourselves here…apparently this is home to some onboard.
That is what I want to address with you today.” Ensign Clarkson interjected, “Are we being this formal for a reason sir?”
Artimus pointed at her with a disdainful glare then shifted to an obviously false smile and said, “The attitude of this ship is somehow mixed, we’re so officious that we absolutely have to be on station but don’t intend on doing anything, but watching me be the Captain. I know I voiced serious objections to having a co-ed ship, but it’s a destroyer…and, I’ve come to terms with that.” Ensign Clarkson interjected once again, “Well…in your own way” as she gestured by extending her empty hand as if to literally present her summation as an offer. Artimus glanced at her again and with a chuckle and a mean smile strewn across his face said softly nearly as a whisper, “Hold…your…tongue.”
Ensign Clarkson was grinding her teeth then under her breath she said, “Well, I don’t want to change the subject…” and she glanced down into her lap and continued, “just…later.” as she looked up she adjusted her posture in her chair. Captain Artimus looked up at the overhead and with a sigh said, “If you’re through…”
Just then Ensign Spayner entered, “Sorry, I’m late the snow was bad.” Ens. Spayner shares a stateroom with Ens. Clarkson and knowing this Captain Artimus glanced again at Clarkson