by Jeff Noonan
When I got back to the ship after my leave, I had a surprise waiting for me. My brother, Tim, had reported aboard while I was gone. He really surprised me because I had expected him to stay in school longer. But he had passed the school he was in and had declined further school so he could come to Belknap with me. While I was gone, Lieutenant Hurt had assigned him to the missile radar crew, where he was working for Mark Wilcoux.
Having young Tim with me was something special for both of us. I remembered how raptly he had listened to my tales of far-away places. He had wanted a life like I had, and now he was living it. I couldn’t cry while the troops were around, but I have to admit that my eyes did get damp later when I was alone. This was big for me. It meant that another of us had a chance to escape from the agonies that our Dad had created! First me, then Kathy, then (sadly) Patty, and now Tim had, in one way or another, escaped. Even Mom was getting out and working now.
Maybe there was hope after all. Only Lyle, Eleanor, Jimmy, and Danny were still at home, and according to Tim, the three youngest ones were spending a lot of time at Kathy’s place. Only Lyle was staying independent. Tim said that Dad stayed pretty much clear of Lyle, since he was as big as Dad and often just as volatile.
Tim said, “Sometimes, I think that Dad’s afraid of him.”
Tim was soon settled in and was thoroughly enjoying the radar work. He, like me, was sending some money home to Mom, so he didn’t go ashore much. I was focused solely on Kenogami, so we didn’t get off ship much together in those early days. We did go see the historical sites in Boston a couple of times, but with Tim being only eighteen and both of us counting our pennies, we didn’t do much else.
I was able to make another trip to Canada after my leave period and before the ship headed south. The time was mostly used in making arrangements for the wedding, which would be happening the next time I came back to Kenogami. I was going to be gone almost five months and was going to be married almost as soon as I returned! It was a tough schedule.
When I left Kenogami that time, it was both different and difficult. There were tears from both Danielle and her mother. Georges and I even had a little moisture showing, although neither of us would have admitted it. But the brothers, Pierre, Jean, and Gilles, were excited for a different reason. I was going to go on a ship to Cuba! That was exciting for them. I had to promise to bring souvenirs.
This was going to be a long separation
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Brothers at Sea
The Belknap left Boston early in 1965, headed south for operations designed to test our systems and train the new crew. The first tests were tests of the engineering plant, tests that made sure that the 1200 PSI boilers and the machinery plant all operated correctly. Then we held training for all types of damage control evolutions. While all of this was going on, the captain and the bos’n mates were training the bridge crews. But, oblivious to all of this, Chief Hall, Mark, and I, and our crews worked long hours and never-ending days to get the missile system upgrades installed and the systems operational.
I will say that, of all the ships’ crews that I had worked with to this point, the Belknap crew was the best that I had seen. I guess that a lot of that can be attributed to the leadership of Captain Law. He would regularly “drop by” our missile spaces, usually timing it to appear just as we were going through some unusually hard evolution. He would joke with us, volunteering a few words of encouragement, and showing a genuine interest in what we were doing. Never once did I ever hear of him saying anything discouraging or petty, even when our work areas were a disaster because of work messes. Both he and Lieutenant Hurt were true leaders and, as a result, they got far more out of the crew than would normally be expected. They made us proud of the work we were doing.
But the crew was exceptional also. Even the young kids that had never seen an actual missile system before were so dedicated that even I was impressed. I was very happy to see that Tim was fitting in with them well. He was a hard worker and was very smart. But more importantly, he was always cheerful, regardless of the difficulties encountered or the hours worked. He seemed to be truly happy to be there.
My relationship with Tim was a little difficult at first. I remembered him as a kid brother (that I had only seen occasionally since he was about nine years old). He was only six years younger than me, but at ages twenty-four and eighteen, that was a huge gap. In addition, I was a first class petty officer and he was a seaman, so there were leadership protocols that we had to follow. We were friends, but sometimes it was a bit strained. Thankfully, Tim seemed to just naturally understand the situation, and he never, ever, tried to take advantage of our relationship. After a few weeks, we both relaxed, and we were soon the best of friends as well as brothers. We stayed that way for many years, bonded in a unique way that I have never known with another person.
The ship went through some unusual times when we were on our shakedown cruise. Once, we lost power in the Norfolk harbor and were almost run over by a freighter before the engineers made repairs and we got underway.
On another occasion, we dropped anchor at sea and found out that we couldn’t retrieve it with the winch because, when all of the anchor chain was fully deployed, it was just too heavy for the winch. So the crew formed a long line down the port side of the ship, heaving around on a long rope, pulling the anchor up bit by bit while the Bos’n on watch chanted “Heave, Heave, Heave” over the ship’s loudspeakers.
But the unique event that stays in my mind most vividly took place when we were in the Port of Miami. We had been in the area testing the ship’s sonar systems, and we visited Miami for a weekend. We were hosting local civilians on a tour of the ship when Miami had a total power failure, and the entire city went dark. Captain Law, being Captain Law, did the unexpected and volunteered the ship’s power to the city. The ship’s Engineering Department fired up the ship’s 1200 PSI plant and brought all four of our 1,500-kilowatt generators on line at once. The ship fed all of Miami’s emergency services for almost a full day before they restored local power.
The ship received a commendation from the City of Miami for that one, and we made the local papers. But even more importantly, the Miami Playboy Club waived their membership requirements and gave the whole ship’s crew an open invitation to visit the club. Tim and I went to town and checked out the Playboy Club for an hour or so, but Tim wasn’t old enough to drink and I was an engaged man who was feeling guilty for being there, so we came back to the ship very early.
After we returned to the ship that evening, Tim and I got a cup of coffee and went up to set on the deck above the bridge (called the flying bridge). It was quiet there, and we were alone, just watching the skyline and the sights of Miami from our vantage point. It was a beautiful evening and we were both quietly melancholy. We didn’t say much at first.
Then Tim opened with, “Jeff, do you ever think about home?” The question startled me, and then I realized that I hadn’t talked about home to him at all since he arrived.
I said, “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“Because, since the first day I was here, you haven’t talked about anything except the ship, work, and your girlfriend. I just wondered. I guess I kind of wanted to know your thoughts on Dad and all that crap that we left behind in St. Regis.”
I thought about the question for a while before answering him, “Sorry, I never thought about it. I mean I just never thought about talking about it. I guess that I’ve spent too many years training myself not to think about it. When I’m home, everything there is so impossible. I try, but I can’t make a difference. So when I’m on a ship, it just seems like another world, except at night when it’s dark and I lie there, trying to make sense out of it all. Do you know what I mean?”
It was his turn to hesitate before answering, “I guess so, but I guess that I haven’t been away long enough yet. It’s still all that I think about. When you do think about it, do you have any thoughts or ideas that could change things?”
My answer was easy this time, “No, I don’t have any answers. Dad is a drunk and a bully, and there isn’t a damned thing that any of us can do about it. The only one that can do anything is Mom. She needs to kick his ass out, but she won’t because still loves him in spite of everything. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she refuses to see how bad things are and she keeps hoping for some kind of turnaround; a turnaround that will never come. My biggest fear is that he’ll kill Mom or one of the kids before Mom realizes how bad things really are.
Tim was quiet for a while before he answered, “Maybe he’s already killing us from the inside out, if you know what I mean.”
That stopped me cold. I said, “No. What do you mean?”
Tim replied, “Look at us. You’re only twenty-four years old, and you have already been out in the world for over ten years. The story around St. Regis is that you were one of the smartest kids in grade school. You even skipped a grade. But you never got through high school. Then there is Kathy. She married a guy who’s eons older than her just to get out of the house. Now she’s devoting her life to keeping the little kids away from Dad. As for me, I’m here, just escaping from life.” He paused, as if he was thinking about what he had just said. Then he went on, “Lyle seems all right on the outside, but he admires Dad and doesn’t seem to understand right from wrong. I’ve seen him punch out girls at school and think that there was nothing wrong with it. As for the younger kids, it’s probably too soon to know about them, but what can they expect from life?”
Tim paused again and then quietly said, “Maybe he’s already killed us. Maybe he’s killed any chance that we might ever have of living a normal life!”
His voice was quavering. I looked at him and saw the tears quietly running down his cheeks. I choked up and couldn’t say anything. I just took my little brother in my arms and held him while he broke loose; crying in a horrible, deep, choking way that tore at my very soul. All the awful feelings that I had held back for years finally caught up with me and we just stood there for a long, long, time, just crying and holding on to one another.
Finally I composed myself enough to gently push us apart. I looked at him and tried a weak joke, “If anybody sees us, they’ll think we’re queer, and then we won’t even have a job.”
He grinned through the tears and we sheepishly began wiping the evidence of our feelings off of our faces.
We sat back down and I turned serious. I said, “Tim, I’ve never thought of it the way you just described it; I guess I’ve never really thought about why I do what I do. I’ve just thought that I had to fight to get away and find myself in the world. Mom told me a long time ago that I needed to escape and give the rest of you an example to follow. That’s what I’ve tried to do.”
He interrupted me with, “You’ve done a good job of that.”
I said, “Please shut up and listen to me. You have to understand something. We are not victims! Maybe we’re survivors, but we’re not victims. If we start thinking that we’re just victims, we’ve lost everything we fought for, and we will become victims! Not only that, but you need to realize that you are an example now. The little ones don’t even know me, but they look up at you. You need to give them something to hope for. They need an example. I’m passing that torch on to you!”
He sat back with a stunned look on his face. He thought for a minute before saying, “Well at least it isn’t as bad as it was before you came home the last time. After we ran him out of the house that time, he hasn’t been the same. He still gets mad and tries to bully the family, but he really hasn’t gone off like he used to for a long time now. He’s been tougher on Jimmy than on any of the others. But now-a-days he’s more of an embarrassment than a threat, if you know what I mean.”
He paused then continued, “Remember, you told him that you’d kill him. I think he remembers that, but I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just running out of steam. By the way, I’ve been wondering for a long time; what would you do if he started beating Mom again?”
I had honestly thought a lot about this. My reply summed up my thoughts on that question, “I dunno, Tim. I honestly don’t know. But I do know that I’d have to do something. I couldn’t live with myself if he ended up killing Mom or one of the kids and I hadn’t done anything to stop it.”
We sat there for a long time, staring at the Miami skyline and thinking our thoughts; then we went below and went to bed. I kept thinking about the concepts raised by Tim’s questions, and I didn’t sleep much that night, but thanks to the comforting hum of the ship’s systems, at least I didn’t have any bad dreams when I finally did drift off.
The following Monday we got underway again and we were far too busy to worry about home. The ship’s first missile firings were coming soon, right after the eight-week training period at Guantanamo Bay, and we had a lot of work to do to be ready in time. The rest of the ship’ crew was getting ready for Gitmo, conducting drills and training the crew. But we were continuously working on the missile systems. It seemed like the Belknap’s modernized systems were a lot harder to bring online than the previous versions had been. I was convinced that the Belknap crew was the best I had seen, and we were making headway, but it was a long, hard struggle.
A few weeks after we left Miami, we pulled into San Juan, Puerto Rico. Tim and I, along with a group of friends, decided to go see the sights. We picked up some brochures, made a plan and headed out. Our first stop was the old military fortifications that we had seen from the ship when we passed them on the way into port. The old fort, known as Moro Castle, was spectacular, and we all thoroughly enjoyed it.
I still remember laughing as Tim and a friend named Don fought a mock swordfight on the battlements using sticks they had found somewhere. They fought up stairs and across the walkways, with tourists all around taking pictures and cheering their favorites on. When they had been at it a while, and the heat was getting to them, they both faked mortal wounds and fell down howling with laughter.
I envied Tim his ability to put everything aside and just have fun. It seemed like I always had to preserve my dignity, so I couldn’t just let go, be silly, and enjoy life—I don’t know why—I was just never able to do that. I could laugh at his grandiose mock swordfight, but I couldn’t imagine doing the same thing myself.
We spent the afternoon at Moro Castle, exploring it and loving the history and adventure that the place brought out in our minds. But it was a hot, hot day and by the end of the visit, we were ready for dinner and a drink, so we headed for the Hilton, where we had been told the dinners were excellent.
The hotel was far superior anything that we had experienced recently—a huge place with multiple restaurants, bars, and casinos. We found a restaurant and settled in for a well-deserved dinner, the first that I had eaten off the ship since I returned from Kenogami.
We downed a few drinks with dinner and were ready for more when we finished. One of the guys decided that he wanted to try a casino, so we paid up and went in.
As soon as we hit the casino, the free drinks started flowing, and we took full advantage of that fact. We split up in the casino since the guys wanted to play different games. I stayed with Tim, watching as he headed for a blackjack table. I wasn’t playing, but I could drink and watch, so that’s what I did.
Tim was a good player—a fact that surprised me. I hadn’t seen this kind of gambling much before, and I was startled that he knew what he was doing. But he did, and as the night went on, he started winning. The table wasn’t a high-stakes table, but for us it was big. Slowly the other guys that were with us lost their limits and came to join us, but Tim played on. We made quite a scene; a group of mildly intoxicated sailors, in full uniform, noisily rooting for our lone player. The tourists were all around, amusedly tolerating us.
Finally, the dealer pushed a stack of chips at Tim for about the fourth or fifth time, and Tim swiveled to look at me. He said, “That’s enough, I think.”
I was surprised. Not being a gambler, I would have
ridden his winning streak to riches (or oblivion) if it had been me. But it was his call.
I said, “Okay, let’s head on out then.”
Tim grinned at me, a bit tipsily, and told the dealer to cash him out. He had won a little over $1,200. That was a fortune to us! He pocketed the money, and we all headed for the door, noisily congratulating him on the winnings.
We got to the hotel lobby and stopped to confer on the next destination.
I said that I was going back to the ship from there, but most of the guys wanted to go downtown to some of the rougher bars where, as one guy put it, “The drinks are cheap and the girls are cheaper.”
After a discussion, Don (Tim’s swordfighting companion), and I decided to go back to the ship, and the rest of the guys were headed downtown.
Tim took me aside and handed me a wad of cash and asked me “Will you take this to the ship for me? I don’t want to carry it downtown.”
I readily agreed and we separated. Don and I got back to the ship just before taps and settled in for the night. I locked the money in my locker after counting it to see what was there. Tim had given me $1,000.
The guys returned to the ship in the wee hours of the morning. They were very cheerfully drunker than skunks, and they woke the whole compartment up before they finally calmed down. Judging from the sea stories they babbled out to anyone that would listen, they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.