Dangerous Ground jm-1

by Larry Bond

  “Greetings, Captain,” boomed Reynolds. “It has indeed been too long since we last met. And I am pleased to see you and those of the Royal Order of the Bluenose once again in my realm.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. We are but humble servants whose duties have blessed us with the opportunity to travel yet again to the far north.” Hardy was laying it on pretty thick and Jerry saw that he wore a broad smile as he played his role. This was a side of Hardy that Jerry had never seen.

  The pleasantries continued as Boreas introduced the remaining members of the Royal Court. Each offered his respects to Hardy, then assumed his place behind the King. After the introductions were completed, Bair and Davy Jones showed up at Hardy’s side with Jones carrying the sealed scroll case. Kneeling before Boreas, he offered the case to the King. “Excuse me your Majesty. Sire, here are the petitions of all the warm bodies present.”

  “Ahhh, thank you, my loyal herald,” replied Reynolds loudly. “You are quite right. We must proceed with the business at hand.” Taking the petitions, he handed them to Washburn, who, along with Foster, began to examine them. Reynolds then clasped Hardy on the shoulder and pulled him over to Patterson and Davis. Gesturing toward them with his massive hand, Reynolds asked, “Before we begin, Captain, perhaps you would care to explain this? It is most irregular for females to be aboard a submersible vessel, is it not?”

  “Uh, yes, Your Majesty, you are correct.” Hardy’s response seemed awkward, shuffling his feet, as if he were reluctant to answer the King’s questions. “You see, Sire, my ruler ordered me to bring them along in the pursuit of our duties. They are crucial to my ship’s ability to fulfill his wishes.”

  “I see,” Reynolds said sternly. “We shall have to review their petitions closely.”

  Returning to the front of the mess, Reynolds drew himself up and formally addressed Hardy. “Captain, as these warm bodies are under your command, I desire to know your assessment of their worthiness to enter my realm.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” Hardy turned to face the warm bodies, a hard look on his face. Then, with a slow wave of his arm, he shouted, “Sire, they are all unworthy bastards!” The force of his statement caused Emily to audibly draw in her breath. Hearing her gasp, Hardy looked directly at her. “Correction, Your Highness, all but two are unworthy bastards! Those two are unworthy wenches!”

  Patterson erupted indignantly, “Now, see here, Capt. ”

  “SILENCE!” roared Reynolds. His bellow was so loud that it actually echoed inside the crew’s mess. Even Patterson was taken aback by the sheer power in his voice. Reynolds then looked around menacingly at everyone, to make sure they understood that he meant business. Sighing, he turned once again to Hardy. “Captain, I appreciate your candor in this matter. But as their lord, you must make at least a perfunctory attempt at defending them.”

  “Of course, King Boreas. My apologies.” Hardy then proceeded to testify that these warm bodies hadn’t sunk the ship yet, although their ignorance had nearly succeeded on numerous occasions. Furthermore, they were barely adequate in the performance of their duties and their exercises. Hardy ranted on for a few more minutes about their general inability to do anything right and concluded that they were totally unworthy in and of themselves. Their only credible defense, Hardy concluded, was for them to throw themselves at the mercy of the King’s court. Reynolds listened with rapt attention, looking very sagelike in his robes and fake beard.

  “Very well, Captain. I concede their unworthiness,” stated Boreas. “However, I am willing to be merciful to these warm bodies and allow them one last opportunity to prove that they are indeed worthy to enter my domain. We shall begin the. ”

  All of a sudden, there arose a commotion behind Reynolds. Washburn and Foster appeared to be shocked and angered by one of the petitions and their agitated discussion interrupted the King. A very annoyed Boreas turned toward his two courtiers and swore, “By my beard, you try my patience! What are you two babbling about?”

  Both Washburn and Foster quickly came over with the petition and presented it to Boreas. “Your Majesty,” spoke Washburn hesitantly as he knelt before Reynolds. “There is a warm body present that has openly admitted to being affiliated with a most heinous association. I–I—” Washburn seemed unable to finish, so appalled by what he had read.

  “Please go on, Prime Minister,” commanded Reynolds. Jerry had a sinking feeling that there were talking about him.

  “Sire,” spoke Foster with significant disgust. “The warm body in question is an aviator.”

  Jerry watched as Reynolds’ hands curled up into clenched fists. Slowly and rigidly, he turned around and cast a chilling gaze on the warm bodies. “Do you mean to tell me there is a member of that league of arrogant scoundrels who routinely trespasses on my realm without so much as a ‘By your leave!’” Reynolds was shaking as he spoke and Jerry noticed that everyone near him had started to move as far away as they could, given the tight quarters.

  “WHERE is this wretch, my Captain of the Guard?” demanded the King angrily. Foster wasted no time in pointing Jerry out. With slow, deliberate steps, Reynolds marched toward him.

  Oh shit, this is not going to be good, Jerry thought as Reynolds approached and towered over him. Jerry gulped as two large hands grasped his arms and lifted him off the deck. Once the two were at eye level, with Jerry dangling almost a foot off the deck, Reynolds spoke in a hushed voice through clenched lips, “You have much to account for, flying man!”

  Jerry could only nod his head, amazed at Reynolds’ strength and a little afraid of what was to come. Reynolds gently put Jerry back down and released him. Both Davis and Patterson watched in awe, their eyes the size of saucers, as they witnessed Reynolds easily lifting Jerry off his feet. Turning away with a graceful swing of his cape, Boreas commanded, “Let the trials begin! Captain of the Guard, escort these unworthy warm bodies to the torpedo room.”

  For the next two hours, Jerry and the other warm bodies underwent the trials as prescribed by King Boreas. None of them were particularly harmful to the body. Most were simply uncomfortable, but everything revolved around being cold, somehow, somewhere.

  The first trial was relatively simple. All a warm body had to do was crawl down the twenty-two-foot length of a torpedo tube and rub their nose on the muzzle door. Of course, with the forward end of each torpedo tube exposed to the sea, the temperature in the tube was a bit on the nippy side. It was a cold trip down and back, as well as a little claustrophobic.

  The part that Jerry hated the most was backing his way out of the tube once he had reached the muzzle door. In order to get anywhere, Jerry had to arch his back so that he could shuffle backward. This brought his bare back in contact with the frigid guide rail at the top of the tube. He yelped more than once.

  As Jerry had been warned earlier, many of the trials involved the use of ice in a number of very unpleasant ways. In one particularly devious trial, he had to transport two ice cubes placed under his armpits from the back of the engine room to the spherical array access trunk: the full length of the boat. “This will clip his wings,” remarked the Royal Baby as he placed the ice under Jerry’s arms. Unfortunately, the ice cubes on his first attempt were too small, and they melted before he could finish the course. Obviously, Jerry was still too hot-blooded to enter the frozen realm. He was sent back to the engine room to try again.

  Midway through the trials, he had had significant doubts whether he’d make it. The low point was during Captain Hardy’s favorite game: bobbing for ice cubes. In this trial, Jerry was pitted against another warm body and the two would submerge their faces into a large container of water filled with ice cubes. The first to grab an ice cube with their teeth won. The loser had to keep on playing till they defeated someone. Jerry proved to be particularly inept at this game, and ended up going seven rounds before finally managing to beat a junior petty officer from E Division. Even Patterson beat Jerry. It was with a bruised and frozen ego that Jerry heard the crew c
heer, “Broomhilda! Broomhilda!” as Patterson emerged first with an ice cube clutched firmly in her mouth. He’d be hearing about this ignominy for the rest of the patrol.

  With most of the trials over, the warm bodies started to congregate in the auxiliary machinery room for the baptism. As Jerry entered the twenty-one-man bunkroom, just forward of the auxiliary machinery room and aft of the torpedo room, the Prime Minister and the Captain of the Guard brought him up short. “His Majesty, the King, requires your presence, warm body,” said Foster malevolently. Washburn and Foster then grabbed Jerry’s arms and led him into the torpedo room.

  “Ahhh, excellent. You have found him,” remarked Reynolds, pleased. “Well, done. Well done. Bring him here.”

  Jerry was ushered up to King Boreas, where the Captain of the Guard pushed him to his knees. “Show the proper respect to His Majesty, knave!”

  The rough handling by Foster was starting to anger Jerry. Foster’s behavior was becoming abusive and even in such ceremonies there were limits. Jerry sensed that Reynolds also knew that Foster had gone overboard and ordered him to back off. “Stand easy, my Captain!”

  Foster moved away from Jerry, who was allowed to rise and face the King.

  “According to the reports of the Royal Court,” began Reynolds, “you have acquitted yourself well in the trials. But there is still one issue that I need to have satisfied before I grant you entry into my realm.” Turning away from Jerry, he paced about a bit, rubbing his beard slowly, as if he were trying to find the right words.

  “What issue would that be?” asked Jerry. Belatedly he added, “Your Majesty” after Foster glared at him.

  “It’s rather simple really,” said Reynolds, pausing as he faced Jerry. “Are you an aviator or a mariner?”

  “I was an aviator, but I’m no longer qualified to fly. I’m now a submariner.”

  “He lies, Your Highness!” screeched Foster. “I recommend that he be given the truth serum!”

  “Hmmm, perhaps you are right, Captain.” Reynolds then motioned to Washburn to come forward. In his hands was a steel bucket. “Prime Minister, administer the serum to this warm body so that we can see if he is indeed telling us the truth or not.”

  Washburn lifted the bucket, handed it to Jerry, and ordered, “Drink!” Jerry took the bucket and looked closely at the contents. The liquid inside had a dark orangeish-brown color and it had an oily sheen to it. A light brown foam clung to the edges. It looked absolutely disgusting and it smelled just as bad.

  “I said, drink!” repeated Washburn forcefully.

  Hesitantly, Jerry slowly lifted the bucket to his lips and took a drink. Almost immediately he began to cough and sputter as he gagged on the foul-tasting elixir. He coughed so hard that he nearly spilled the rest of the serum onto the deck. Washburn deftly recovered the bucket from Jerry’s shaking hands and said, “The serum has been administered, My Lord.”

  “Very well, Prime Minister. It will take but a few moments for it to take effect.”

  A few moments, my ass! thought Jerry as the coughing finally subsided. It’s having one hell of an effect right now. Jerry didn’t know all of what they had mixed together in that bucket, but from that one vile gulp he was certain that soy sauce, vinegar, and some sort of carbonated drink were included. What sick mind had devised this concoction? They should lock him up before he hurts someone, Jerry lamented.

  “I ask you again: Are you an aviator, or a mariner?” Reynolds’ voice was louder and firmer than the first time.

  More than a little irate with the whole Bluenose business, Jerry replied firmly. “Your majesty, I am now a mariner. I sail on and under the sea, not over it.”

  “More lies. It is well known that aviators do not pay their respects to King Boreas. And you were an aviator,” growled Foster.

  “That is incorrect, Captain of the Guard,” replied Jerry sternly. “Aviators like myself fly from ships. When the ship crosses the Arctic Circle, we pay proper homage like anyone else.” Foster appeared almost apoplectic, shocked that Jerry would dare challenge him.

  “That may be true,” interrupted Reynolds, “but explain to me why those in their flying machines do not pay their respects and violate my domain with wild abandon? Even though I send my fiercest winds, they ignore my challenge and come and go as they please.”

  Jerry looked at Reynolds and tried to figure out why he was doing this. It seemed like he was really trying to make a point, but what? And to whom? It should be obvious to Reynolds that this sort of ceremony wouldn’t be possible in a tactical aircraft, and Jerry just didn’t know if the charge Foster was leveling against all aviators was accurate or not. Maybe the aviation community had some kind of ritual that he wasn’t aware of. So, why would Reynolds emphasize the lack of respect by aviators? Was this just one of those legendary trumped-up charges brought against people during these ceremonies to which there was no right answer? Or was Reynolds trying to get him to admit to something under pressure — to someone who needed to hear it. His gut feeling said it was the latter.

  Jerry stood as erect as he could and slowly, evenly addressed Reynolds’ question. “Your majesty, I was an aviator. And I was a good one. But due to an accident that was not my fault, I can no longer fly. I wanted to stay in the Navy, but I also wanted to belong to an elite group, a group that had some of the best people in the service. I tried to transfer to submarines, but I was told no. Not because I wasn’t qualified, but because it would cost too much and that the Navy wouldn’t get a good return on its investment.” Jerry found his gaze slowly shifting toward Foster as he continued speaking. “I didn’t like the answer I received; it seemed to me to be arbitrary and capricious. The higher-ups just didn’t want to be bothered by a baby aviator with a broken wing. I forced the issue through family political connections because I don’t believe in giving up on something important just because it’s hard to achieve. And now I’m here.”

  Taking a deep breath and returning his attention to Reynolds, Jerry concluded his little speech. “Now Your Highness, as for the disrespect shown by aviators: I can’t speak to the actions of others. I can only speak for myself. In that regard, I am here, now, willingly paying the proper respect and deference due to your exalted position and humbly seeking your permission to enter your realm. These actions should be the point of debate for the Royal Court, not my past status.”

  That twinkle in Reynolds’ eyes told Jerry that he had made the right choice. “Well said, lad. I accept your explanation.” Turning toward the Prime Minister and the Captain of the Guard, Reynolds inquired, “Are there any other charges against this warm body?”

  “None, sire,” said Washburn with a huge smile. Foster said nothing, but shook his head no.

  “Very well, then, young mariner, join the other warm bodies and we shall conclude the ceremony.” Jerry bowed and left the torpedo room.

  The baptism was the climax of the Bluenose ceremony. Each warm body stepped into the shower area in the crew’s head and was liberally doused with unheated seawater from one of the small garden-hoselike fire-fighting connections. Jerry watched as Emily was drenched with freezing water. Her screech was so loud, it was picked up by one of the ship’s self-noise monitoring hydrophones. When it was Jerry’s turn, Reynolds himself took the hose and gave him an extra-long soaking. Jerry stood there and endured it, determined to not cry out. Shaking violently, Jerry was led to the auxiliary machinery room, where he was allowed to dry off, and a petty officer painted his nose a very deep shade of blue. He was now a true and trusted, ice- and brine-encrusted Bluenose.

  The celebratory feast, in spite of the pomp and circumstance, was really just another excuse to give the new Bluenoses some more grief. The dinner was served cold, naturally, and Jerry thought the menu was about as disgusting as the truth serum. The salad was half-frozen cooked spinach with anchovies, pickled relish, some kind of squishy nut, and spearmint dressing. The main course consisted of sardines in peanut butter sauce, cold mashed potatoes with hideous gela
tinous sardine gravy, and frozen snow peas. Dessert was a snow cone made from the water drained from cans of tuna fish. In addition to the chilly and revolting cuisine, the new Bluenoses ate their dinner while sitting on ice held in large sheet cake pans. By the time the ceremony had finally concluded, and King Boreas and his court retired, Jerry’s butt was numb with cold.

  Slowly waddling back to his stateroom, Jerry was congratulated on surviving his initiation. He acknowledged their greetings with a stiff nod, but all he cared for right now was a hot shower. Grabbing a towel from his stateroom, he headed for the officer’s head. Once at the shower stall, he turned on the water and waited for it to warm up — it didn’t. Jerry moaned and cursed the general unfairness of it all, as the XO had secured the hot water until further notice. He had to get the salt off his body, so with a deep, resigned sigh, Jerry jumped into the cold fresh water.

  Up in their stateroom, Patterson and Davis were desperately trying to warm up from their ordeal. Emily was still shaking uncontrollably, despite being wrapped up in two blankets. Patterson walked around their tiny room, shivering, upset, and annoyed that there was no hot water. Suddenly there was a knock at their door.

  “Yes!” yelled Patterson, “Who is it?”

  “Messenger of the Watch, ma’am, with a gift from Master Chief Reynolds.”

  Patterson flung open the door, poised to tell the messenger just what he could do with the master chief’s gifts, when she saw the sailor holding a tray containing two large steaming mugs. “What is this?” she asked.

  The sailor smiled. “Hot tea fortified with a little depth charge medicine, ma’am. COB said you two earned it.”

  Patterson grabbed one of the mugs and took a sip, “Oh, my God! A Hot Toddy! Bless you.” She grabbed the other mug and handed it to Emily, who seemed more content to just hold the hot ceramic in her hands.