Suffer in Silence

by David Reid

  Rogers nodded his agreement, and Larsen apologized. Rogers returned the apology, and the two shook hands.

  “Look,” Grey said, “our mood swings are only going to get worse as the week progresses. Let’s try to keep our feelings in check. Just survive this week, then you guys can duke it out behind the berm all you want. Deal?”

  Boat Crew Six murmured their agreement. Grey quickly took in his surroundings, watching the instructors with interest. They seemed even more disturbed than the class. Instructor Logan’s face betrayed his amazement and disgust at the events of the last few minutes, but it wasn’t long before he pulled himself together and had the class holding their boats at extended-arm carry. The ambulance rumbled back onto the beach, and Instructor Logan took off running. The class crossed the Silver Strand Boulevard, navigated the streets of the amphibious base, and then completed twelve laps around the maintenance shed before crashing to a halt behind the chow hall.

  Still sopping wet, Grey filed into the building after his class. Felicia grabbed his arm as he passed the cash register. She pressed a candy bar into his hand. Without turning, Grey stuffed it into his pocket, murmured his thanks, and continued down the line. Despite their huge meals, a caloric snack like a candy bar was a welcome treat during the long nights.

  “Why you so skinny?” an old Filipino food server asked. “You need to eat more.” She wagged a gnarled finger at Grey. “Eat. Eat.”

  “I’ll eat as much as you want to give me, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Moving with excruciating slowness, she piled three slices of meatloaf, two hot dogs, a mound of mashed potatoes, and a pile of rice on his plate. She passed it back with a shy smile. “Now you eat.”

  “I will.” Grey returned her smile and continued down the line. Three glasses of milk, two glasses of Gatorade, and two cheesecakes later, his tray was completely covered. Grey carried his load into the dining room and took a seat with his boat crew.

  Jackson sat with his head bowed and mumbled grace. Jones ate with the ferocity of a starving rat, cramming huge spoonfuls of mashed potato into his mouth. Rogers picked small gray lumps out of his meatloaf, placing them on a dish reserved for the task of holding the unwanted mystery particles. Polkowski’s head rested limply on the tabletop, Larsen examined the torn-up flesh on his hands, and Murray watched the instructors.

  “What a lively crew,” Grey exclaimed. “It looks like Jones is the only one who knows how to get things done. The rest of you should eat up.”

  “Sir,” Jones drawled, “I must confess I have an advantage over these other folks. I grew up fightin’ four brothers and two sisters for food at every meal. You learn to eat fast or not at all.” As Jones spoke, he continued shoveling food between his smacking lips.

  “Chew with your mouth shut, sailor,” Rogers urged. “You keep this up, and we’ll have to send you to finishing school.”

  “Now, pardon my saying so, but not all us boys have the means or the brains to attend your pretty-boy college, sir. Dang, I should take you home with me sometime. We’ll take away your silver spoon and replace it with a nice wooden one. Show you some real livin’.” Jones smiled. “You know I’m just teasing, sir, but I have to ask you one question: You ever killed anything you ate?”

  “No,” Rogers answered, without the slightest trace of animosity. “I’ve never killed anything. But I would love to see where you grew up sometime. I don’t want you to think that just because I’m a Princeton man that I’m stuck up.”

  “Naw,” Jones said. “Naw. Not stuck up. Just lucky.”

  Stoop-shouldered Polkowski finally lifted his head from the table. He glanced around with tired eyes, then pushed his chair back and stood up. “See you guys later. I’m done.”

  “Sit down,” Rogers said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not kidding. I’ve had enough.”

  “So that’s it?” Jones asked. “After all that we’ve been through, you’re just going to walk away?”

  “Sorry. I just don’t want it bad enough anymore. Good luck to all of you.” Polkowski slinked away and headed for the instructor table. He approached Instructor Logan and was ushered out the door an instant later.

  “Well, what’s next on the agenda today?” Grey asked, changing the subject. “Any guesses?”

  “Surf torture,” Jones muttered.

  “More elephant runs.” Jackson gingerly touched the top of his battered skull. “I think I’m growing a ridge on my head. I’d give anything to run a step without that boat jackhammering on my noggin.”

  “Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be that bad,” Larsen said. “They save the real bad stuff for the night shift.”

  Grey shifted his attention to Murray, who hadn’t said a word during chow. His face was pale, and every few minutes he would let out a series of hacking coughs.

  “You alright, shipmate?” Grey asked. “You sound like crap.”

  “I’m fine,” Murray said, forcing a smile. “I love this shit.”

  Instructor Logan wandered over to the student tables, and the room grew quiet. He picked a muffin off a student’s tray and bit into it. As he chewed, he said, “I know none of you are tired yet. But just keep in mind, as the week progresses, you will be very tempted to fall asleep in my chow hall.” He shook his head. “Don’t do it. The punishment for sleeping during meals involves eating or drinking a concoction of my choice. I guarantee it will not be gentle on the palate. I have a penchant for Tabasco sauce, gents, and I will use it freely. By the way, chow time is over. On your feet.” He stuffed the remainder of the muffin into his mouth and wandered back to the instructor table.

  The class filed outside and clustered around the boats. Logan followed them out, and soon they were off and running again, this time to the east end of the base. They jogged along the main road before turning onto a poorly maintained athletic field. After dropping their boats on the muddy grass, the class climbed down a cement retaining wall at the edge of the field and lined up along the bay. The small sliver of beach was covered with molding weed and gave off an unpleasant odor. The brownish green bay water looked equally uninviting.

  “Listen up, ladies,” Instructor Logan yelled from atop the wall. “The next event of the day is called Logan’s Lope. I would love to take credit for the name, but I’m afraid this uncomfortable exercise predates my reign as an instructor.” Logan tilted his head back and spewed a stream of sunflower seeds into the wind. “Like everything else, this is a race. And it involves boat crews, not individuals. Basically, you’ll be lying on your back with your legs wrapped around the waist of the next guy in line. The whole boat crew will form a chain in this manner. Only the last guy in line will have free legs. The rest of you will have to use your arms for propulsion. Pretty simple, right? You’re just moving along like a caterpillar or a giant water bug. Why don’t we have someone demonstrate? Any volunteers?”

  Ensign Pollock’s hand shot up immediately.

  “Okay, class leader. Take your boat crew and show us how it’s done.”

  Pollock’s boat crew waded out into the bay. They wrapped their legs around each other’s waist, lay on their backs, and started stroking. Their arm movements were uncoordinated, and one of the students was clearly having trouble keeping his head above the water. To make matters worse, Pollock was at the head of the chain, flailing away wildly and doing nothing to maintain a steady course.

  “Enough!” Logan yelled. “What a pathetic display! If the rest of you look as bad as they did, we’ll be here until midnight.” Logan pointed to a dock that extended fifty yards out into the bay. “You’ll start there.” He moved his finger to the north. “And you’ll paddle over to those rocks—about a quarter mile. Then you’ll climb the rocks, run south along the street, do a lap around the field, run north, climb back in the water, and paddle back here. Any questions?” He waited a fraction of a second. “Good. Go line up.”

  Grey stepped into the bay and waded toward the dock. The mud sucked at his boots with every st
ep, nearly prying them from his feet. Suddenly the bottom disappeared and Grey found himself swimming toward the dock. He was grateful for the life preserver he was wearing. Treading water in full uniform without any kind of buoyancy compensation got old very quickly.

  “Line up on me,” Grey said. “I’ll lead.”

  Boat Crew Six linked up and lay back in the water and waited.

  Logan yelled from the shore, “Remember, it pays to be a winner! Now get moving!”

  Grey stroked backward and quickly realized that they would have to synchronize their efforts if they wanted to get anywhere. “Murray, give us a cadence!”

  “Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!”

  They slowly picked up speed, gliding north through the murky water of the bay. Grey was already starting to shiver from the cold, and he knew this operation would last most of the afternoon.

  “Fuckin’ A!” Larsen yelled. “You’re crushing my nuts, Murray. Move just a little bit that way.” The chain rippled as Murray shifted uneasily. “Okay, better.”

  Grey had his legs wrapped around Rogers’s waist, and he could tell his friend was having trouble keeping his head above the surface. Grey tried to lean back farther, easing the pressure on Rogers’s torso.

  “Better,” Rogers gasped. “Thanks.”

  Most of the boat crews floundered by the pier, but one had pulled its act together and managed to establish a large lead. Grey continued flailing in time to Murray’s cadence, trying to keep his mind on anything but the cold or Vanessa with another man, anything but the image of Ramirez alone in the hospital, anything but vengeful arms brokers. The instructors followed their progress from the shore as they inched through the water.

  The clouds thickened overhead as they continued paddling. The water started to dance with tiny ripples as raindrops splattered against Grey’s face.

  “Who the hell was Logan anyway?” Larsen asked. “What kind of sick fuck makes up something like this? Logan can take his goddamn Logan’s Lope and shove it up his ass—”

  “Hey,” Grey cut in. “Enough complaining. Let’s win this race and get it over with.”

  “Yeah, Larsen, shut up or I’ll crush your nuts again,” Murray warned. His threat was followed by a chorus of throaty coughs.

  They stroked and stroked, fighting the tide that pulled water into the bay. Grey’s thoughts had scattered into an incoherent jumble by the time they stopped at the rock pile. His entire crew shivered violently in the rain as they climbed up the rocks and out of the bay. They began running clumsily, working heat back into their numb limbs.

  Instructor Petrillo called out to them as they ran by, “You need to win this one, guys. Trust me, it will be worth it. There’s only one boat crew ahead of you. Catch them. You won’t regret it.”

  Grey surged ahead, urging his crew on. He could see the lead pack turning a corner on the field in the distance. “Petrillo wouldn’t lie to us. We need to catch them. Maybe we’ll get a rest.”

  “Bullshit,” Larsen said. “It’s all bullshit. They tell you that winning has its reward, but it doesn’t. The only reward I’ve ever gotten is surf torture like everyone else.”

  “Look at it this way; the faster we run, the warmer we’ll get. Now let’s go.”

  They picked up the pace and slowly closed the distance to the lead group. The two competing boat crews scrambled down the rocks together and entered the water at the same time. Grey waded out into the bay and took his place at the head of the chain. For several minutes they stroked neck and neck with their competition. Suddenly the other crew turned toward shallower water. What the hell are they doing? Grey continued his determined paddling and was surprised when the other crew suddenly shot forward.

  “They’re using their legs on the bottom!” Murray yelled.

  Grey saw that he was right. The last man in the chain was nearly standing upright, pushing against the bottom with his feet.

  “Hey, knock it off,” Grey yelled. “That’s not cool.”

  “If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’,” came the reply from the boat-crew leader.

  “Academy puke!” Larsen yelled. “Why don’t you take your ring and shove it up your ass!”

  Grey smiled as his boat crew exchanged insults with the cheaters. At least a little animosity would keep his men fired up. They stroked harder and harder, but they couldn’t keep pace with the other crew.

  “Fine,” Grey said, “we’ll play their game. I’m taking us shallow.” He steered the human chain into shallow water. “Murray, give us some power.”

  They surged forward quickly as Murray kicked against the bottom. They thrashed and thrashed, but it was clear they wouldn’t be able to erase the other crew’s lead. They waded into the beach just behind the cheaters.

  “And we have a winner,” Instructor Logan exclaimed. He addressed the winning crew. “Go ahead and get comfortable. Sit butts to nuts over there on the beach. Keep each other warm, but don’t sleep.” He turned to Grey’s team. “You know what second place means, don’t you?”

  “What’s that?” Grey asked with little enthusiasm.

  “You’re the first losers. Take off your vests.”

  They stripped off their life jackets and dropped them on the beach.

  “Now get out there!” Logan pointed to the bay.

  Grey waded back into the murky water. He turned around and linked arms with his boat crew.

  “Take your seats!”

  They sat back in the water as two more boat crews waded to shore.

  “Hide the trainee!” Logan yelled.

  Fuck. Grey held his breath and disappeared beneath the surface. Cold water closed around his head and pushed against his lips. After what seemed like five seconds, Grey poked his head out of the bay.

  “Hide the trainee!”

  They repeated the drill. Hide the trainee. Hide the trainee. Grey tried to calm himself. His frustration mounted. Logan briefly lost interest in them as the remainder of the crews struggled toward shore.

  “I’ll hide my dick in your ass,” Murray grumbled, spitting bay water in Logan’s direction. “How’d you like that, big man?”

  For two hours, the class alternated push-ups on the beach with hide-the-trainee drills in the bay. The rain faded into a gentle drizzle as the afternoon progressed. Shaking violently became second nature to Grey. The masseter muscles in his cheeks cramped up from the constant chattering of his teeth, and he had to work his jaw repeatedly to keep it from locking up completely.

  “Entertain me!” Logan yelled. “This shit is getting boring. One good story or joke, and I’ll let you turds crawl out of the bay.”

  The students looked at each other expectantly. Everyone was afraid to volunteer. Finally Rogers raised his hand. The class groaned.

  “Ah, Shakespeare,” Logan said. “What have you got for us this time? A love poem?”

  “No. I was thinking about something a little more sobering. Something to put suffering in perspective.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Well, the Vikings are always a good bet when you’re looking for something dark. How about a nice bit of prose from a rune? How about some true masochism?”

  “Whatever you say, sir. Get on with it before I lose my patience.”

  “Right.” Rogers stood tall in the water. “I think you’ll appreciate this one. The Vikings actually believed that chaos and evil would prevail in the final battle between the gods.” He adopted his deep theatrical voice.

  Brothers will battle

  And kill each other,

  Sister’s kin

  Commit foul acts.

  There’s woe in the world,

  Lechery rampant;

  An axe-age, a sword-age,

  Shields are sundered;

  A storm-age, a wolf-age,

  Before the world crumbles.

  No mercy or quarter

  Will man give to man.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Logan barked. “Sounds like heaven to me! You are one goo
fy little turd, sir. You are the shining example of the adverse effects of too much education. Amusing, but not good enough. Hide the trainee!”

  The snickering stopped as the students held their breath and disappeared beneath the surface. The drills continued until dinnertime, at which point the students lifted their boats back onto their heads and raced to the chow hall. The next instructor shift waited in the parking lot. Grey looked for familiar faces. He immediately picked Chief Baldwin and Senior Chief Lundin from the menacing crowd. At least he could count on Lundin to temper the sadistic impulses of the others.

  The trainees hosed off their hands and boots at a spigot before filing into the building. Grey smiled at Felicia as he moved past the register and into the chow line. The food servers wrinkled their noses as the students held out their plates.

  “You smell like sewer!”

  Grey hadn’t noticed. He was so cold and so tired his brain wouldn’t allow him the luxury of fretting over bad smells. As always, he sat with his boat crew and wolfed down a generous helping of navy slop. Grey found himself shivering despite being indoors. It was awfully drafty in the chow hall. He looked up. The ceiling fans were turning at full speed. Murray followed his gaze.

  “Bet you anything the instructors are behind those damn fans.”

  “I definitely wouldn’t put it past them.” Grey stood up. “I’m getting hot chocolate. Anyone else want some?”

  The whole table raised their hands.

  “Okay, but I might need some help.” Grey looked at Murray.

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Murray gingerly rose from his seat and followed Grey back to the food line. The packets of cocoa powder were gone, but the hot-water container was full. Grey filled six cups with steaming water and handed three to Murray. They shuffled back to the table and passed the cups out.

  “I thought you were getting hot chocolate,” Larsen complained.

  “Hey, at least it’s hot,” Grey said. He held his cup to his cheek. The warmth was heavenly. He desperately wanted to wrap his whole body around the steaming cup. He shifted the cup from one cheek to the other, then pressed it to his chest. There just wasn’t enough of it to go around. The rest of the table looked equally frustrated. They were enthralled by the warmth of the water, but they didn’t know what to do with it. Finally Grey put the cup back on the table and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.