by Jeff Noonan
On our first night in Kowloon, we walked into a bar filled with White Russian women. Naturally, there were some sailors there, but the USA didn’t have to worry about our group giving away any secrets to these wily females. They were uniformly uggggllllyyyy! Wiles or not, they were not having their way with us. We left there rapidly and found a bar with a much more comely, if Asian, staff. Maybe they were also spies, but we didn’t know anything anyway, and I don’t remember any of them ever asking us any questions other than, “Buy me a drink, Joe?” So we bought them drinks.
We stayed on the Kowloon side for the rest of the week, partying and raising heck. We never had any problem with anyone and never saw anyone that even resembled the dreaded Communist Secret Police.
When the Cogswell left Hong Kong, it headed back to the South China Sea and more endless days of patrolling off the coast of Laos. We spent over a month there before heading back to Subic Bay for more standby duty. We were inport almost a month this time, and I stayed fairly close to the ship. Olongapo had lost its allure for me.
Midway through this period, I received a letter from Mom. In it, she told me that she had had a heart attack and had been in the hospital in Missoula for several days, but by the time she wrote, and I received, the letter, the news was several months old. She was home again and had recovered, so there wasn’t much I could do. I did call her from the base in Subic to make sure she was all right. She made light of it and talked about how it was a “wake-up call” that would get her to slim down a bit. I asked her if she had been fighting with Dad when it happened, but she wouldn’t answer, so I knew that it was another beating-related incident.
There was nothing I could do about it from the Philippines, though, so I dropped it, and we had a short talk about the kids and life there in Montana. The conversation was frustrating, because it had to be relayed through a short-wave radio station. In those days, that was the only way to get a telephone call from anywhere in the Orient to the States.
We did one more turn in the South China Sea and a short stay in Subic after that. On April 6, 1961, we left Subic Bay for the last time on that cruise, enroute to Yokosuka.
We were welcomed at the Sakura Bar as if we were long-lost relatives. Mama-San and her girls made us feel as if we were the most special people alive. It was a great feeling. We spent a week in Yokosuka, most of it at the Sakura. It was a pleasant, but uneventful time.
We also did a lot of shopping at the Navy Exchange, since that was widely known to be the best place in the Orient to buy presents for the folks back home. Since Mom loved her tea, I bought her a really beautiful tea service. I knew it would be a treasure. I got other presents for the rest of the family and stashed them in my radar room aboard ship.
I was leaving the Sakura one evening, headed back to the ship, when I ran into a shipmate wandering down the street. He was a second class petty officer named James that I knew vaguely. He was obviously pretty drunk, so I took him under my wing and got a cab for both of us. It turned out that my good deed was a bit misdirected. As soon as James saw the cab driver, he started yelling at him.
Apparently James didn’t like Japanese people, because he was using every racial slur he could think of. He offered to fight the poor cabbie and even tried to hit him. He was sitting in the back on the passenger side and I was behind the driver, so I was able to grab James’s arm and deflect the blow, but the driver was very upset. He stopped the cab and tried to get us out, but I talked him into continuing and got James shut up for a while.
James started up again a few minutes later. He called that poor cabbie every derogatory thing he could think of. From the sound of it, one would have thought that James was fighting World War II all over again. The driver was an older Japanese man, so he could easily have been a soldier in the war. James obviously thought so, and he made it known that he intended to “beat the shit out of that Jap bastard as soon as this cab stops.” I physically restrained him so that he couldn’t hit anyone, and the cab driver kept us headed for the Fleet Landing.
Finally, the cab stopped. I could see Fleet Landing a few blocks from where we were, but this wasn’t the normal cab stop. But I wasn’t going to argue with the poor guy, so I paid him, and told James to get out.
He opened his door and stepped out. I heard him scream, “What the fuck?” and then I heard a loud splash.
By this time, I was out my door and standing on the street. The cab took off with its tires screaming. The driver was yelling “Fuck You, Asshore!” out the window as he took the next corner on two wheels.
I was so startled that I just stood there and watched the cab disappear. Then I turned around to look for James. I found him about four feet below the side of the road, setting in a Binjo ditch, with the dark waters swirling just under his chin.
The driver had pulled up to the edge of that ditch when he stopped. When James had slid out the door, he had been looking back at the driver, cursing him. He had not even seen the ditch until he slid into it. Now he was just sitting there with turds bouncing off his chin. He was absolutely stunned. I couldn’t help myself. I just started laughing. This was one World War II after-action-battle that I had to admit, the Japanese had won, and for once, the right was on their side. James heartily deserved what he had received.
James crawled out and sat down on the edge of the ditch mumbling something. The smell was absolutely unbelievable, and the muck was all over him, even in his hair. I couldn’t get within ten feet of him—and probably wouldn’t have, even if I were able.
I told him to stay put, and I went to Fleet Landing and told the Shore Patrol what had happened and where they could find him. Then I got in a water taxi and went back to the ship. I had absolutely no desire to wait and ride back with James, for obvious reasons.
I saw James the next day on the ship. He didn’t remember the trip back to the ship, but he had no problems admitting that he had probably “badmouthed” the cabbie. He actually seemed proud of it! Apparently, after I had left, the Shore Patrol had retrieved him and made him strip off his clothes. Then they had dumped buckets of salt water from the bay over him, and, when he was cleaned off enough, they put him in a ship’s boat, nude, and sent him back to the ship. At the quarterdeck, the OOD had put him on report for being out of uniform and using foul language to the OOD.
A few days later, he was taken to Captain’s Mast, where he was reduced in rank to from second class to third class petty officer by Captain Moore. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy!
We left Yokosuka and headed for Guam on our trip home. Just as we had done a year earlier, we refueled there and then overnighted in Pearl Harbor before finally heading for San Diego. Arrival in San Diego, with the band playing and the dependents screaming as they waited on the pier, was a lonely time for a single sailor. I have to admit that I truly envied the other sailors who had loved ones waiting on that pier.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Goodbye Cogswell
Shortly after we arrived in San Diego, I received my official orders to go to a Navy School (Fire Control Technician Class “B” School) at Great Lakes Naval Training Center. I had to be there by the end of July, so I didn’t have long to wait. I was granted thirty days’ leave enroute. When this was combined with the travel time that the Navy allowed me, I was going to have about forty-five days off before I had to report to Great Lakes.
I had saved my reenlistment money to buy a car, so I started looking for one as soon as my orders arrived. Because I was skeptical of San Diego’s used car dealers, I tried to find my car by going to the base newspapers and the bulletin boards posted around the various Navy bases.
Finally, by word of mouth, I ran into my dream car: a 1954 Mercury convertible that another sailor had taken to Tijuana and had customized. He had leaded in all of the chrome strips, had the upholstery redone in crème-colored leather, put a new convertible top on it, and then had given it a multi-coat bronze lacquer paint job. It was beautiful! But it had a problem: he had blown the pistons out of the engine
by running it without oil.
I saw an opportunity. With all of my Montana experience fixing up old junk cars, I didn’t think that turning this one into a real car would be a problem.
I bought the car for very little money from the disgruntled owner. Then I took it to the base’s automotive shop and ordered a new engine for it. For the next few weeks, I spent every off-hour working in the base auto shop, changing out that V-8 engine. I finished it about a week before my transfer date. I’ll never forget the deep throaty rumble of that engine when it started up for the first time!
It had cost me a bit more than I had planned to spend, but I had enough money with me to get home, and I had been sending money home to the savings account for over a year now, so I was in pretty good shape financially.
I had mixed feelings about leaving Cogswell. She had been my home for almost three years and I would be leaving a lot of friends behind, but I was excited to think that I would be seeing my family again. It had been a very long time and I did miss them very much.
The hardest goodbyes were to Fred Ross and Bob Lawler. We had become very close. Little did I know that I would never again see Fred, and I wouldn’t reunite with Bob for another forty years. I don’t think that I could have handled that knowledge when I left them. They had been my family for the past few years, in a very real way.
On May 29, 1961, I put the Cogswell behind me, leaving some of the best people I had ever known in my wake.
I was twenty years old, I had a cool car, I had forty-five days free before I reported to school, and I had a lifetime ahead of me. I would miss my friends when I had time to think about them, but right then, I was living an adventure and loving it! Life was good.
I truly enjoyed that trip. It was really anxious to get home, so I took the fastest route, which was through Death Valley, Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, Southern Idaho and into Montana. A few hours later, I was pulling into St. Regis. I was home!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Montana at Last!
I came over the last mountain crest and found myself looking down on the valley around the little town of St. Regis. It was a gorgeous sight, the wide valley with two silver rivers winding through it and the little town nestled beside them. It was just too much for me. My eyes started watering, and I had to pull over. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this place!
After I pulled myself together, I drove through town toward home, passing the place where Joe had picked me up to go join the Navy almost three years earlier. I passed the school and saw people outside that I knew, but in my fancy convertible with California plates, no one took much notice as I passed.
I pulled into the driveway at my home and just sat there for a minute or so. It seemed like nothing had changed, either here or in the town. It was as if time had stood still while I was gone. I don’t know what I had expected, but so much had changed for me that I had somehow assumed that everything here would have changed also. Somehow I was a little disappointed—though I was very excited to be home.
I got out of the car and had just started for the door when it opened and Mom came through it at what seemed like a dead run. I don’t think that I ever saw her move faster, either before or after that day. She scooped me into a bear hug, and I didn’t think she would ever let me go. Over her shoulder, I could see two teenage boys in the doorway; my brothers, Tim and Lyle. They had big grins on their faces as they, too, headed for us at a trot.
If the town hadn’t changed, my brothers certainly had. Tim was now fourteen, a blond, stocky guy that looked like a high school wrestler. Lyle, a year and a half younger, was tall and rangy, with dark hair much like my father’s. He already easily topped Tim by four inches. But the biggest change was in their faces. They were maturing rapidly. I guess the Noonan household had a way of making all of us grow up fast.
Mom was looking good and she had lost a lot of weight. I had been worried about her heart attack, but it didn’t seem to be a problem. When I tried to talk about it, she just ridiculed it, saying that it was probably just a huge gas pain because she was feeling great now. It obviously wasn’t slowing her down, so I quit worrying.
That evening passed in a blur. Mom put on a big hamburger barbeque. Kathy came home from work and told me about everything that was going on with the other people in our age-group. The younger kids seemed to just sit there, enthralled. Tim wanted to know everything about the Navy and my life, while Lyle, Eleanor, Jim, and Dan were content to listen to us. Patty even seemed happy to see me. I really believe that she recognized me, but in all honesty, it was hard to tell.
After dinner, I had to take the kids for a ride in the convertible. That was a really big deal as they rode around town, yelling proudly at anyone they knew along the way.
Dad didn’t come home until about ten that evening. We were all in the living room talking. He was drunk and he just walked through us without any comment. I don’t think he even saw us. Tim and I shared a look that I never forgot. It was becoming apparent to me that Tim and I thought a lot alike. Neither of us had much respect for the empty hulk of a man that our father had become.
I found out later that night that Tim had taken over the job of maintaining the bunkers that I had dug so long ago. He had closed one and filled it in when he thought Dad was getting too close to finding it. A second one had always had rainwater problems, and it hadn’t been used much, but the one that we had always used the most was still functional and available.
After Dad’s arrival, Kathy and I took the convertible and went downtown looking for friends. I reunited with a lot of old friends and we sat in the local café drinking Cokes and gabbing until the wee hours. Even that hadn’t changed.
The next day was Saturday, and, when I got up, Dad and Mom were in the kitchen. Dad was now sober and looking a lot worse for the wear, but he seemed glad enough to see me. Then he said, “I have something that I have to tell you.”
I had a sinking feeling, but I said, “What’s that?”
He had a strange look on his face as he said, “I spent your money.”
I just looked at him, and he continued, “I came home a couple of weeks ago and your mother was looking at some bank deposit slips, so I asked her what they were. She told me that it was your savings, but I didn’t believe her.”
Tim interrupted with, “He was so drunk that he couldn’t see, and when he saw that Mom had money, he beat the shit out of all of us, especially Mom!”
He and Dad were glaring at each other, and I knew there was no love between them. But Tim stood his ground and went on, “He forced her to sign a check for all of the money in the account, and we never hardly saw him again until last night.”
I looked at Dad and asked, “Is this true?”
He was slumped down on the chair and seemed to get smaller as I looked at him. He said, “Yes.”
I turned to Mom and asked, “Is there anything left?”
“Only the last allotment that came in after he took all the other money,” was her answer.
“Dad, do you have any of it left?”
“Naw, it all went.” Then he actually looked at me and grinned, “No big thing. You swabbies don’t work for it anyway. Everyone knows that the Navy’s just one big welfare program!”
I thought for a minute. I wanted to smash that grin off his face, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere, and it might make things worse for Mom later, so I held myself together. In honesty, I had realized that the loss of some of the money could be a possibility. I had thought that maybe Mom would have to take some of the money to survive, so I halfway expected to be short, but I had never considered that Dad would get his hands on it. Apparently, things had gone even further downhill since I had been gone.
“Dad, do you still work at the Diamond Match lumber mill?” I said.
“Yeah, but I can’t get any money from them. They’re strict about no advances.”
I then said, “Okay, but I am here for the next month or so and I don’t have enough money to get to my next
duty station. So I need a job. Can you get me a job in the mill?”
“I probably could, but you couldn’t do the job. Sawmill work is for real men, and you couldn’t hack it.”
I blew up then and called him a sneak thief and a wife beater, among other things. I told him that I was going to Superior (where the mill was located) on Monday morning and I expected him to have made some contacts for me. I told him that I could do any job that a miserable drunk like him could do, and if he couldn’t pay me what he owed me, he had better arrange for me to get work.
At one point in my tirade, he got red in the face and started to get up from his chair, glowering at me. But Tim and Lyle, who had both been watching from across the room, stepped forward and stood at my side.
Tim said, “Not this time. There’s three of us here now.”
Dad glared at us, but he was sober, so he sat back down. He agreed to talk to the sawmill manager first thing Monday. I told him that I would be at the mill office at 10:00 a.m. on Monday. Then I left the house.
I was really pissed this time. Over that vacation, Dad finally cut his last bond with me. I just couldn’t imagine anyone so cavalierly spending someone else’s money! And he didn’t even have the decency to say that he was sorry.
I checked my money and discovered that I was better off than I had thought. I had some cash on me and the recent allotment was still in the bank. Plus, I would receive another allotment check the day before I had to leave for Great Lakes, so I relaxed a bit. I was still short if I wanted to have any fun while I was home, but I would survive.
I was a bit lost when I went out to visit my friends. Joe was still in the Navy. My other high school cronies—Dale, Whitey, and Ray—had all joined the Air Force, and Dave Bennett had moved away, so there weren’t a lot of people my age around. I went down to the truck stop, ordered a hamburger, and sat there thinking about the next month and trying to decide what to do. I was about ready to just leave and go to Great Lakes early. The past twenty-four hours had just reminded me of all the reasons why I had left in the first place.