by Jeff Noonan
I got up and headed for the forward radar room, where I knew that Wilcoux was working that morning. I got there just in time to hear him say, “Yes Sir, I am always happy to return to New England.”
I knew then that I was right.
He hung up the phone with a silly grin on his face and turned around to face me.
I stuck out my hand and said, “Welcome aboard, shipmate.”
His smile widened, and he said, “Belknap? You too?”
“Yup.”
He grabbed me in a huge bear hug, and we started laughing. Finally he drew away, saying “You know, for the first time since I joined this canoe club, I really do feel appreciated. It feels good!”
I agreed with him on that.
After that, we spent the day making plans. We both decided to go home for Christmas. Mark had planned to do that anyway, but I had been undecided. However, there wouldn’t be much time later and now was probably my only chance, so I prepared a leave request and made plans to fly home for the holiday.
The next afternoon, Mark and I made some calls to the people we knew at the California Missile Center to ask for any documentation that they had on the Belknap and her new missile systems. It turned out that the Belknap was going to receive a whole new version of the type of missile systems that were aboard Yarnell.
It was going to be a challenge, but my engineer friends told me that they knew the new Commanding Officer and my new division officer, and they were very happy with their selection. I got the feeling that they had hand-selected the entire chain of command for this new ship.
When I was assured by two of them, in almost identical words, “This won’t be another Leahy,” I felt better.
I asked them who was going to be my first class in charge of the missile computer systems, and they surprised me with, “There ain’t going to be one, Jeff. The computers are going to be yours.”
This floored me, but Mark was ecstatic about it, “You deserve it, Jeff. You’ve earned it, and you can handle it better than anyone I’ve known.”
This was very flattering, but also very scary to me.
The documentation that we had requested came in a few days. It was classified, of course, so we locked it up and decided to study it in the after computer room where we had a lot of room to spread out prints. Since we were on the cusp of leaving for the Christmas holiday, we decided to leave it locked up until we returned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
No One Will Ever Find Your Body
I flew home on December 22, 1963, with two weeks of leave ahead of me. It had been two years since I had been home last, and there had been a lot of change since then. Patty was gone, and Kathy was married. Tim was seventeen years old and a senior in high school. Even little Danny, the baby of the family, was now five years old. Home was going to be a different place.
Mom and Kathy met the plane in Missoula with all of the normal hugs and compliments. It was really great to see them. I don’t know what I had subconsciously been expecting, but I found myself quite surprised to see that both of them looked healthy and happy. I have to admit that my eyes did water a bit when I saw them, but they probably didn’t notice much because Mom’s waterworks far surpassed mine. It was good to be back.
On the way from Missoula to St. Regis, they talked nonstop about the changes in their lives since I had been home last. Mom was working at the school, cooking their noon lunches; a new Dairy Queen had opened, and she was working there also.
Kathy was married, of course, and seemed happy. She mentioned that she and her husband, Don, were living across town from where we were raised. She was also working, and was helping to baby sit our little brothers and sister when she could. But most importantly, she was able to give shelter when the family had to get out of the house because of Dad’s tantrums. Her husband, although he was a friend of Dad’s, had laid down some rules, and Dad was not allowed in Kathy’s home when he was drunk. As a result, the old bunker was no longer in use.
Apparently Dad was still living at home, but it was obvious from the conversation that Mom was much more independent than she had been when I was there last. Neither Kathy nor Mom had much to say about him, so I was left with some questions in my mind, but I didn’t bring them up because I didn’t want to put a damper on the homecoming.
Once again, my eyes watered when we came over the mountain and the St. Regis Valley came into view. God, I missed this place!
Dad and all of the kids were home when we got there. Dad was obviously half-drunk, but he was in a good mood, so all went well. I was amazed at the growth of the kids. Tim was still stocky and jovial, but much more mature than I remembered. Lyle, at fifteen, was tall and well-built and was becoming a power on the school football team. The younger kids were all very shy around me, but that was normal. They had not seen me that often while they were growing up, and it would take some time for them to become reacquainted with this strange new big brother.
We had dinner at home and settled in to talk for the evening. Dad was soon bored and gave a lame excuse to get out of there. He left for downtown, and I didn’t see him again for a couple of days.
The younger kids soon warmed up, and we had a nice evening. Mom was really excited when I told her about the people from the Missile Center selecting me for the new ship. That really seemed to mean a lot to her. The kids all wanted to hear about living on the ships, so I told them stories about the places I had been and the (G-rated) things that I had done. They were interested, and, in turn, I had them tell me about the excitement in their lives. Little Danny was absolutely adorable, telling me about things like a caterpillar he had caught the summer before and a fish that he had put back in the river “cause it was hurted.” He looked like a perfect cherub with a round face, big ears, and a grin that lit up the world when it split his little round face.
It was an evening to remember. Life for the Noonan family looked a whole lot better than it had been only two short years ago. There was an obvious, but unmentioned, emptiness where Patty had been, but life was better for the family in spite of that.
Mom loaned me her car the next day, and I drove around town, looking up my old friends. Both Joe Thompson and another old friend, Dale, had been discharged and were home again. We talked for a while and agreed to meet the following day for a drink. I had some things to do with the family, so I reserved the day for them.
After scouting the town and renewing acquaintances, I went to the community cemetery to say hello and goodbye to Patty. Mom had been true to her word. There was a large stone at the head of Patty’s grave and the one next to it. The stone had both Patty and Mom’s names on it. It was under a big pine tree on the side of the cemetery. Patty’s grave and the headstone made a huge impression on me. Somehow it was a symbol of everything that had been wrong with our childhood. Over that grave, I promised Patty that I would do everything in my power to make this world a better place whenever I could. I actually prayed over it, something I don’t do often.
When I left there, I found Kathy’s new home and went in to see her. I had brought presents from Norfolk for everyone. They were not big things; just an assortment of clothing, jewelry, and toys that I had bought at the Base Exchange. I brought them to Kathy’s place, and we wrapped them before I took them home.
Later in the afternoon, I went with Tim and Lyle, and we cut a Christmas tree for the house. Then, in the evening, we decorated it and put out our presents. We had another really nice evening at home, laughing and joking as families do during the Christmas season.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and we were all lazy in the morning, just setting around gabbing. Mom went downtown to work in the morning, so I cooked some hot cakes for the kids and we spent the morning cleaning up so Mom would be surprised when she got home.
Then, late in the afternoon, Dad came home. Tim, Lyle, and I were in the kitchen talking to Mom, who had just come home from work. Dad stormed through the door, obviously mad as hell at something. He never explained himself; h
e just threw his coat on a sofa and came straight through the living room to where Mom was standing and hit her in the face. She went down hard, and he turned toward where I was standing across the kitchen. He charged at me, pulling back his big right fist, aiming to get me with another swing when he got close enough.
But he had forgotten that this time I could see him coming, and I was no longer the little boy that he had beaten so badly a few years ago. Instead of cowering back and waiting for him, I stepped into his charge and hit him with my absolute best shot; a hard right that came over my shoulder from way, way, back. It caught him right on the bridge of his nose and stopped him cold. Blood spattered everywhere.
He staggered back, and I got him in the gut with a hard left, then a right to the jaw. He went backward again and came within reach of Tim, who unloaded years of frustration in one huge right hand that caught him on the other side of his jaw. He went down—still conscious but totally incoherent, flopping around as if he had lost all control of his body! Then he just rolled over on his back and laid there with blood covering his face and pooling on the floor.
Tim and I could not believe what we had done. We just stood there, looking at each other and at Dad.
Mom surprised me then. Her reaction was, “Oh my God! Is he okay?” She was still on the floor where she had fallen, but she scuttled over to where he was and checked to see that he was breathing, which he was. She was bleeding from a cut on the side of her face, but she was honestly more concerned about her husband than she was about herself!
I could not understand this. Tim and I exchanged puzzled glances and then we went over and picked Mom up. She didn’t want to leave Dad, even then.
I yelled at her, “Go get cleaned up! You don’t want to be here when he gets up!”
She came out of her trance and left for the bathroom, just as Dad began moving again.
I can’t describe the feelings that came over me as I stood there looking down on the man I had once loved and admired so much. They were more of sadness and pity rather than the fear and hatred that I had felt for so long. I looked at Tim and saw nothing but hate on his face. He had not known the father that I had known so many years ago. That fact hit me hard. What a horrible, horrible waste!
Tim grabbed a heavy piece of firewood and was ready to hit Dad with it, but I had him back up to where he was out of range. Tim was still in high school, and I didn’t want Dad to blame him for this after I left.
Dad staggered to his feet and looked around dazedly. I didn’t give him time to recover.
I told him, “Get out! Get out and don’t come back here until you sober up.” I kept repeating myself and I grabbed his shirt, pushing him toward the door.
He finally got a bit steadier and tried to turn toward me, but just then Tim stepped up beside me with his firewood held high. He said, very calmly, “Get out, you son-of-a-bitch, or I’ll kill you!”
That was too much for Dad. The look on his face was absolute amazement. He turned toward the door, prepared to leave. I grabbed his jacket from the sofa where he had thrown it and followed him.
I said, “Wait a minute!” and he turned to look at me, his face blood-smeared and still looking dazed. But then he turned and went through the door onto the porch.
I followed him, with Tim and Lyle close behind me. Dad was going down the porch steps when yelled again, “I said wait a minute, God damn you.”
He finally stopped and turned to face me. He was standing exactly where I had fallen from his sneak attack a couple of years earlier. Now that I had his attention, I threw his coat to him and said, “Do you remember how I used to live in the mountains when I was a kid?”
Confused, he replied, “Yeah.”
My voice dropped an octave or two, still steady but somehow piercing through all of us in a way that I still can’t explain, “Well, I still remember those mountains well. I know about a hundred places up there where no one will ever find your body. If I ever hear that you’ve hurt Mom or any of this family again, I’ll be back and you’ll disappear! Do you understand me? You will disappear.” I was deadly serious.
Tim and Lyle moved forward to flank me.
Dad just stood there looking more and more stubborn. In his face, I could see that the rage was taking him over again.
I grabbed the firewood from Tim’s hand and went toward Dad with it. We were about three feet apart, only separated by the porch steps, glaring at each other and I wasn’t blinking when I repeated, in that same deadly tone, “Do you understand me?”
The boys moved forward again, putting the three of us shoulder to shoulder, facing him. The mindless rage on his face faded, and it looked like he was actually thinking about what I had said. Then he just nodded. He turned and left.
We stood there, watching him, until he had gone out of sight down the street. When we knew for sure that he was gone, I turned and hugged my brothers. I really didn’t know what to say to them. As I drew them close, I realized that all three of us were shaking badly. This had been the hardest few minutes of any of our lives.
Tim was the first to speak, “Guys, we can never talk about this with anyone?”
Lyle pulled back and asked “Why?”
Tim replied, “Because if something does happen to that bastard, I don’t want us to be blamed for it.”
I followed up with, “Good thinking, Tim. We don’t talk about this—ever.”
We were all sitting in the living room when Mom came out of the bathroom with a bandage on her cheekbone. She looked around and asked where Dad was.
I said, “He just left,” and the boys nodded. To the best of my knowledge, none of us ever spoke about that afternoon to anyone after that.
Dad came home while I was there several times after Christmas. Each time, he stayed just long enough to sleep, always leaving in the morning. I only saw him from a distance for the remainder of my stay. Tim later told me that he was far more subdued from then on whenever he was at home. Of course, he still drank and threw tantrums, but according to Tim, the all-out brutality was never again as bad as it had been before that Christmas Eve encounter.
We actually had a really nice Christmas that year. We opened presents in the morning, and Kathy had us to her home for Christmas dinner. It was almost as if we were a normal family. No one expressed any regrets about the missing family member.
I spent most of the next few days just hanging out with my friends. It was very cold, and we mostly just sat around in the Stag or St. Regis Bars and gabbed. Soon it was time to return to real life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
USS Belknap, Bath, Maine
Mark and I both returned to the Yarnell right after New Year’s Day, 1964, and immediately threw ourselves into studying the paperwork and schematics that we had received describing the Belknap’s new missile systems. It was January and we were due to leave for Bath in May. We both knew that we would be busy when we got there and we wanted to be as prepared for the new systems as possible.
For the first time ever, I thought about ignoring my studies for the upcoming promotion test. I figured that the Belknap studies were more important, since I was far too junior to be promoted anyway. I figured that I would have at least a couple of years to prepare for that promotion and the Belknap work was imminent, so Belknap was the priority. But this line of thought bothered the heck out of me and finally I gave in and studied for both the test and Belknap. The old “Please, Escape” concept just wouldn’t let me slack off. For about two months, I studied every free moment, usually sleeping only four or five hours a night.
In February, I took the test for fire control technician first class. It seemed tough, but I didn’t have any real hope of being promoted, so I mentally blew it off and kept working. I thought that, with the test over, at least now I could get a full night’s sleep and maybe go to town once in a while.
The days dragged on, filled with the routine work on our equipment, normal duty days, heavy Belknap studying, and an occasional trip to Crawford Stree
t. We got underway regularly and went to sea off Cape Hatteras for training purposes. Yarnell was preparing for its first trip to the Mediterranean, but that didn’t hold any real interest for me. Both Mark and I were counting the days until we left for Bath.
One day in April, I was working in the forward computer room when Mark came down to where I was working. He said “C’mere Noonan. There’s something on the mess decks that I want to show you.” So I went along with him, thinking that he had uncovered some technical change in the Belknap schematics that he’d been studying, but he stopped in front of the ship’s bulletin board and pointed at a name on a posted list.
I was being promoted to first class petty officer! I was going to be promoted to E-6 in a month. I could not believe it. Less than five years off the deck force and I was going to be a first class! I was absolutely astounded.
That night, the majority of the Yarnell’s Fire Control Crew went to Crawford Street and celebrated, even Mark who almost never went ashore.
In May 1964, two first class missile fire control technicians, Mark Wilcoux and Jeff Noonan, left USS Harry E. Yarnell in Norfolk enroute to Bath, Maine, and the new ship, Belknap.
Mark decided to take thirty days’ leave on the way to spend some time with his family. I drove straight through to Brunswick and reported in within a couple of days of leaving the Yarnell. I had nothing better to do and I figured the sooner I got there, the more per diem I would get. Plus this time I planned on renting an apartment instead of living in the hotel, so the sooner I got there the better chance I would have of finding a decent apartment.
All went well and I received my per diem check as soon as I arrived. The same day I went to Bath and reported to the Belknap pre-commissioning detail, where I found that I was only about the sixth person to arrive. The Captain and my new division officer, Lieutenant Hurt, were there, but no one else in my chain of command had yet arrived.