New Homeport Island Part 1

New Homeport Island.

Robert Lyon.

Prologue.

New Homeport Island maroon scenario 964.

Island life has been eventful but always rewarding. Vast arrays of experiences have been a ma.s.sed and recorded in this sea story. The salt of the sea may have bleached our bones and the sun, baked our brains; but it was the hours of work that tested our souls, bent our backs, and made us old.

Our story begins at the start of it all, our change of home port, and a bitter winter just after. The crew was a cast of characters preposterous in dimension and absurd in expression both then and in our tale.

Though the mermaids turned out to be whale bubbles and the sirens were just sound deadening troths reverbing emptiness against the sails, there are still things best left mused over but left un-believed.

The incidents which took place on DD-964 were surreal enough uncelebrated, but in the franchise of 'maroon scenario 964' they solicit angst in this d.a.m.ned soul that once strode upon her untamed decks.

I won't speak of disgrace here, nor of acts of heroism that righted the coming disasters brought on by those other acts of arrogance or shameful frailties; but I will speak in the sailor's tongue of l.u.s.t and adventure as well as the ever present comedy.

Life at sea is a suffering and is to be laughed at.

So take heed, amongst these pages lays the mockery and exhalatation of a sailor's experience and you may well be he. It has been true and remains so, that a sailor may find himself or herself marooned on a s.h.i.+p, having lost sight of joy and become haze grey and underway.

Should you be there now...stranded, on a s.h.i.+p...at sea, awaiting something good to do...then rest here in these pages, I've been there before you and will comfort you.

Chapter one.

Change of homeport into unfamiliar waters.

Everett Was.h.i.+ngton November 1995, we arrived at our new home port. The changes are astounding; Long beach California had been deeply sardonic and hostile just as a matter of local culture. Here in Everett it's a softer way of life. The first thing we noticed were the pubs, they seemed to operate on a fix cost model with no intention of expansion. No dance floors, no music, nothing to facilitate the art of 'the pick-up' or seduction at all.

In time we discovered actual clubs and it seemed better than what we were accustomed to in California. If you had a bad day at work and wanted to drink and complain go to a pub, if you're looking for companions.h.i.+p head to the 'meet market'; a phrase I had heard but misunderstood in my youth. It was comedic to hear connotations between 'meet market' and 'sausage fest'; it seems many of the crew also misunderstood.

Some of those boys I served with were only comfortable at a sausage fest, too few women to feel any pressure. The men and women, I served with were another story entirely.

We found Everett to be too soft, a guy comes up and asks for a light from one of our guys and it seemed to be a come on.

It took about two months to realize he was just looking for a heads up on the mood and tone of the bar as though it were a private party and he was establis.h.i.+ng himself as a friendly face.

I felt like we were demanding these people harden up and stop seeming so soft to their military. A much more harsh way to be than any of us wanted, and a misunderstanding at that.

It was a good port, but complacency had set in. Everyone had their one public function and anything else was someone else's job. That created gaps and short comings in what local society was willing to do for each other as a service; and promoted the concept of lending favors. At times, when they come to collect their debt of favor, it would lead to pa.s.sive aggressive arguments and was just a bad way to get things done.

It was a sight to see though...snowcapped mountains, green trees, two men arguing over the hood of a blue ford truck about some very hometown matters. It felt like a home.

Within the first couple of days we had our scouting done, found the bars, hotels, apartments, and I was the lucky guy to find the mall first. A vital piece of information for the women in our crew and keeping them appeased was a means of survival, "Ahh... the power of estrogen."

It was uncharacteristically cold that year according to the crew members from the area, all glad to be so near their childhood homes though some were surprised that eighty miles away and eight hundred miles away had the same impact. Just too far for a weekend visit to be routine. There would be no college kid style bringing home laundry to mom for these squids.

The snow came in waves from off the ocean, something we saw rain do frequently but a s.h.i.+p from long beach California watching waves of snow dusting the pier was surreal. I likened Puget Sound to lake big bear on account of this feature. Everett however had a convergent weather pattern just over Puget Sound which resulted in some three hundred days of rain per year. This further implied Puget Sound is just a flooded lake, and the Olympia national rain forest had become a rain forest through survival of the fittest amongst the botany set. One of those inferences is certainly correct whilst the other is patently absurd, I forget which is which.

We were jaded in just the wrong way, 'people weren't to be trusted, but the sun will s.h.i.+ne, the breeze will ease, and the rains will subside'; which was a philosophic a.s.sumption that did not exactly serve us well in Was.h.i.+ngton State.

The rain ceased only to build to a full force storm, there was no expectation of suns.h.i.+ne on any given day, there was a distinctive cartography to the breezes, and the people were like us. Just trying to survive to the next day with bills paid, food in their stomachs, and a lover with warm moist lips to welcome them in to a roof over their heads.

There in that first winter we met our own naivete. Many of us had never driven in the snow and had spouses also unable to drive in the snow. The slightest dusting of snow was an expected 'snow day' to them; after all what can one reasonably expect to accomplish in the snow...in a mania of delirium...due to the realization that snow is a real, and tangible effect of weather. A comical development for those of us with exposure to life in a true winter.

Standing on the ASROC deck just forward of the fantail we looked out at all the snow and saw the bridge to Marysville is stop and go traffic there's been an accident. The command duty officer and I as well as a few other cigarette smokers stood there smoking and using binoculars to survey the scene. We informed the police of the accident as it seemed there were no police on scene. It turned out the driver at fault didn't want to call the police over a matter of personal pride and his insurance premiums. When we realized it was captain Armitus, I was sent to pick him up and bring him to work. At first he didn't recognize us, so I a.s.sessed him for shock and found there was some degree of shock; he blamed the cold for that, and I accepted it. Being that I was an engineer he described losing control of his vehicle and asked how that might happen. It was actually power steering failure he described but he wanted it to be the result of antilock brakes. I concluded the engine must have failed. And that satisfied him; he was quiet on the drive in since he was cold and realized it was us that called the police, something he chastised the command duty officer for later.

The snow storm increased and decrease over the first couple of days. I stuck to the public library it was warm and inviting, pleasant surroundings with the hidden feature of filtering people out far better than any military recruiter. It seems as though some people would never go to a library for fear of being caught dead there. How do you exit somewhere you find to be embarra.s.sing as you have a heart attack without anyone becoming aware?

Establis.h.i.+ng myself at the local library with the librarians, a GS-8 and GS-12; I had established the navy's need for a substantial reference section. We would need encyclopedias on subjects like maritime law, international law, as well as engineering, culinary arts, history, and military science. I boiled that down to asking for as many encyclopedias as possible medical, law, and material science.

"...So, you'll need books on sailing then?" the librarian asked, "I thought you guys were the authority on that" she continued with a chuckle. She reached up to the counter where my hand was resting and rested hers on mine.

I smiled and replied, "It's not so much the sailing part of our reputation that we are authorities on...It's more those tantric temples we visit overseas that we are known for being knowledgeable about." I slid my hand back slowly and she looked down to the desk a little embarra.s.sed and disappointed, but just before her hand left mine I slid it back forward and interlaced my fingers with hers from beneath. She stood there starring down at our hands and asked, "Are you older than you look or am I really old enough to be your mother?"

I smiled a wide smile, leaned in and whispered, "I'm much older than I look." She giggled and I laughed and she looked for a piece of paper to write her notes on as well as her phone number. There was a stack of small sheets of paper on the counter that eluded her. As she searched she asked again, "So, what was it you'll really be needing?" as her hand slipped away from mine. This was actually an invitation to ask her for her phone number but I was new to town and she really was old enough to be my grandmother. I said, "Legal library materials, engineering encyclopedias, management books...pretty much everything to start this whole navy thing all over again. It seems our navy wide 'training issue' is so bad they have announced it to everyone."

She looked up and asked hopefully, "Is that all?" I smiled and said, "It would take all night to cover everything I need...what time do you get off from work?" and I laughed a disarming don't kill me for teasing you laugh.

"I might have just what you're looking for..." she said as she continued to search for something to write on, but added with a giggle as she shook her pen, "but, there may be something I will have to get." She was getting fl.u.s.tered at her confusion; it seemed she hadn't had a good flirt in years. Just as I offered one of the slips of paper from the counter top she had turned to enter the office and lingered in there for a while.

When she returned she was more reserved and there was a line waiting for her. She seemed a little older in her demeanor and I lost my nerve for flirting with her and she noticed that.

Once she had taken care of the line she had waiting checking out books and seeking certain books with casual conversation with her regulars she told me she would let them know what it was I would be needing and said, "We'll pick this up later." So, I headed back out of the library, I was getting hungry anyways.

In front of the library there was a significant gathering of patrons some not dressed for the cold. With some small talk I discerned they were in fact homeless. It was my first opportunity to flex those researcher skills. The charters and mission statements of the county health services, federal welfare programs, FEMA, and social services would be my lead in. The librarians were more than willing to jump in on a 'mission'. We prepared a legal argument stating job responsibility, public need and obligation. We scripted a scenario for the situation involving the police providing transportation to county health services, with follow on social services; inclusive to placement in shelters and various programs such as vocational rehabilitation and Pell grant educational opportunities to the homeless.

There was an elevator leading to the second floor, it was a smooth ride and my librarian was giving me a tour of the reference section. After a brief interlude she said she had some reading to catch up on and looked forward to seeing me often.

As the police arrived they had a general concern about them as to 'what had changed? ; It's always like this'. The change was of course was that our s.h.i.+p did not consider any of this normal or right. And the librarians noted how bad the storm was and that it was just beginning. A cause for me to check out the farmer's almanac to see just what we were really expecting being that the local weatherman was rarely correct.

The police were surprised to see federal labels in play on something so common to them and became very concerned about how intense the storm was really going to be. And they attended to the instructions we scripted with good cheer, because something had just gotten better.

"Yesterday it was so cold, I started crying. We've been on the streets for over a year. I looked over at my daughter and just kept telling her I was sorry as I sobbed..." said Janet, she was bundled in what little she had from when she was last functional as well as what she found left on the streets, and was given out of charity.

"My daughter needs a coat, I mean she is going to die in this cold and all she needs is a coat..."she said trailing off into a hard cry starring at the ground, she loudly interjected into her cry, "but she needs it." She had sent her daughter into the library to warm up and warned her not to draw any attention.

"She's fifteen now and there are options for her that I once had too." she looked detached and almost hypnotized as she starred up to the sky. "Those boys over there look to be anywhere from eighteen to twenty. It's just time..." she continued.

The homeless man she was speaking to just shook his head with his teeth chattering. He was just being friendly; he couldn't focus on what she was saying but they were taking turns venting about whatever crossed their minds.

When her daughter returned she told her, "Andrea, you're going to have to be a woman now. You're going to have to do whatever it takes"

"I have been mom." she replied, "we're still alive and we'll survive." Andrea said in reply to yet another one of mothers ultimate conclusions. It seems her mother is p.r.o.ne to decide that this is the moment. Right now I will take inventory of my life and decide why all this has gone this way; Mistaking moments of idolatry, for moments of reflection. "Are we going to have another moment mom?" she asked with a smirk on her face.

Her mother took hold of her hand and said, "This is one of those moments...in a few hours that library will be closed and tonight is going to be deadly cold." she spoke as a narrator for some summer nights play, and continued with an accusative tone, "I am struggling to find you a jacket since you lost your last one."

Andrea replied with astonishment, "You mean the one I lost when I was thirteen?"

"Ya..." her mother blurted out dismissively, "Because it would be old, right?"

"That truck driver was your boyfriend mom..." Andrea's eyes darted around to see if anyone heard her. Then smiled and looked in the direction of a small group of guys gathering themselves to head out from the bus stop to whatever goings on they could find.

"Andrea, that's what I mean...those boys are close enough to your age. You're going...to have to do...whatever it takes..." she looked into Andrea's eyes looking for the understanding of what she meant.

Andrea blurted out the reply, "I've been with boys before mom..."

Janet replied, "You need a jacket Andrea." with very little emotion or inflection to her voice. And in the same tone she continued as though she were a hypnotist implanting a suggestion, "Whatever it takes..."

Andrea scratched a little nervously at her nose while looking at her mother's shoes and looked back up at her mother's eyes and said, "Then I should probably go back in there," pointing at the library, "there are guys in there too and I know how to handle them."

Janet... her mother, focused on her daughter briefly, then replying as though her daughter had just insisted on leaving her side at the mall to hang out with her friends asked, "Where do we meet.." and with a pause added, "and when?"

Andrea looked at the library door with antic.i.p.ation and excitement and said, "Give me about an hour to find out." They briefly hugged and Andrea went back into the library, as her mother watched the young guys at the bus stop walk and drive away.

There in the snow with fog swirling from car tail pipes and occasional buses throwing snow and slush everywhere, Janet surveyed her surroundings preparing to prowl, but still in a delirious fidget which she had been in for months. She knows she has to survive the night but has no genuine recollection of surviving even just the night before, let alone a life time of ups and downs.

About thirty minutes later Andrea is as flirtatious as she can get away with in a public library and her young heart is falling in love once again. Falling in love at such a young age actually happens several times a week and her vitality is as strong as she is young.

Outside the library Janet is looking for a man to get her through the night. She is a desperately lonely woman, no playfulness left to her at all. With some hinting toward her circ.u.mstance she is nearly mistaken for a prost.i.tute and is instead taken for a pan handler. The man she is speaking to has become leery and with an obvious degree of sympathy gestures toward us telling her, "maybe, they can help."

There we stood gawking at the spectacle, Kim Luds, Chris Marcy, and me. I immediately had images of skid row in California with a foot of snow and wondered what would we do? She approached us and nearly slipped on ice in the road twice. Chris said, "This is our chance to just go..."

Kim replied, "Let's just see what she says."

"You guys wouldn't happen to be lonely would you?" she asked, there was an awkward pause. We were totally dismayed; she was nearly old enough to be my mother and didn't exactly have a p.o.r.n stars body. She continued, "I'm sorry...I just can't be out in this weather alone tonight."

I said, "I can understand that, maybe we can set you up with something". Just then her daughter stepped out of the library holding a young guys hand and she signaled her mother and her mother signaled back. "I'm going to be gone for a couple of days mom..." she interjected and hurried off with her new friend as her mother waved good bye and mouthed the words 'met me here'.

"Well, my daughter found some one that will get her through the night, so I'm more relaxed...I may be able to take all three of you but I don't take it in the b.u.t.t." Again we stood stunned. I said, "That's okay...I actually meant we know of some programs and we should be able to set you up with something before the night comes."

Chris loudly asked, "Does she...take it in the b.u.t.t?" Kim and I looked at him shook or heads then looked at everybody starring at us. I said, "Maybe we should go inside the library and pull the books we'll need." There were about twelve homeless right there at the front of the library sitting on the steps wondering how bad this is going to get and trying to memorize our faces in the event the police start looking for the girls missing mother.

We went into the library after Janet explained she had an incident in the library and thought the librarians didn't like her so she would stay outside. The library was comfortably warm and well lit but out of snow blindness it briefly seemed dimmer inside.

The police arrived with a bus to carry the homeless, about twenty, to the county services office. As Janet boarded the bus she asked us to keep an eye out for her daughter, and that she might be in the hospital for a while. It seems a police officer had been watching out for the two as much as he could without being intrusive and her condition had been preliminarily diagnosed as being mostly sleep deprivation with a chance of bipolar mania.

Andrea had slipped away with a college student that was friendly enough that the one other time he had been seen he explained he was only riding the bus since his car was being fixed and when the weather allowed he would prefer to walk then ride the bus. He had mentioned to an older Hispanic guy there that he was on his way to pick up his car and he was going to help the girl out. "He seemed kind of protective or possessive, she looked like she was in love." he told us and added, "...don't worry about her plenty of fish in the sea" and he smiled. Later that night I noted there was something pleasant about a snow hushed Friday, not as much action as I would like but a good end of a hard week.

It had been a week of snowstorm surges and flurries, a minor nuisance on some days, a threat to everyone's sense of security and a threat to general welfare for some others.

A lackadaisical mood had set in amongst the crew, feeling warm and cuddly by the fireside is sometimes just euphoria from hypothermia and at other times it is that you are genuinely comfortable and content. A restful demeanor in such a hostile workplace was a welcomed change.

Stuck on the s.h.i.+p as the snow flurries crashed into artic blasts and subsided again into flurries, we felt as though we were at the mercy of nature; not at all unlike being at sea and was a mind state sailors prized as their greatest a.s.set.

The week of snow reached its crescendo on a Tuesday; drafts of snow wrapped around buildings in a swirl and left city streets looking like icy snow tunnels. The light from the street lights only carried just so far and pointed down, the end result was a very cavernous appearance.

The following morning the snow storm hadn't let up. Roads had to be closed, power had been lost, and phone service was unavailable. Night workers were stuck in their places of business and many residents still tried to carry on with their normal routines, leading to people stuck in the snow in the road, and just off the road. Many crew members were absent, only the duty section and those that lived aboard were present. We had received a few phone calls saying they couldn't make it in leaving us with an apparent snow day.

There are however no snow days for the military. The local police didn't have the appropriate equipment and it was actually illegal to hazard them in that manner, the same was true of county road services and maintenance. The National Guard could be called out by the governor's office for public safety as well as the local military; they exist to be hazarded in that fas.h.i.+on and had the appropriate gear. The laws regarding private property did not stop at personal property but extend to company property and in the case of the electric company that was very relevant.

Snohomish county and King county were hit the hardest by the storm surges. It was only three feet on average but the snow drifts had gotten as high as five feet. The snow was expected to start to melt at about 10 A.M., but a second surge of the storm hit at about 10:30 A.M.

Mr. Mormus the Executive officer thought having the squids at home on a snow day was absurdly unrealistic and told them if they were unable to find their way into work we would be picking them up from their homes. He considered this a priority as we suspected more phone services would be lost and there was already a significant portion of the crew unaccounted for.

The police had called in asking what personnel and equipment we had available. The steep slope of the road just in front of the base required four wheel drive in their estimation, though I did manage to get my front wheel drive car up the hill only slipping slightly where I hit snow that wasn't still powder.

We started looking for what we had and what legal provisions we had to clear as much of the roads as possible. Crew members stuck at home with no electricity and young children had said they may need their entire family picked up.

Captain Armitus however, was looking forward to a snow day himself. The officers in general saw no need for their presence at work that day. The majority of the enlisted followed that lead. There is however always work to be done on a s.h.i.+p.

Life at sea is hard and only stops when you're dead or discharged.

Painting the s.h.i.+p was a continuous ongoing project, navy gray...a nice contrast to those snowy white caped mountains on the horizon. The engine rooms and auxiliary machinery rooms had all the maintenance requirements of an entire fleet of s.h.i.+pping trucks and vans all compressed into one location, a s.h.i.+p.

The s.h.i.+p had a well-diversified work group, when the water pipe in the overhead of the helo hanger ruptured the hull technicians welders lead by HT1 Hefter just needed a 'go ahead' from someone willing to take responsibility. I gave that 'go ahead' in the face of the executive officer that was unsure of their competence and just what had caused their uncertainty as to whether or not it was s.h.i.+ps force organizational level work or sh.o.r.e intermediate maintenance activity level work or, perhaps even depot level s.h.i.+pyard work. This is the worst form of bureaucracy...the 'I'm pretty sure this is someone else's job' bureaucracy.

We found more of that same att.i.tude with various public services regarding this unprecedented weather, but as the U.S.

Military we had service members from all over the country and I myself had experienced a negative seventy-three degree winter accounting for wind chill factor while stationed in great lakes Illinois; to us it was a simple lack of organization.

Armed with various legal books we began scripting a response to the situation. Being a non-commissioned officer at this command was very much becoming the paralegal role that non-com was always intended to be.

We contacted the governs office with our briefing and the first person we spoke with, a secretary, actually asked if we were suing the governor, as seriously as possible we redirected her, explaining that the scenario was being faxed as we spoke.

We drew heavily upon our experiences at naval s.h.i.+p yard long beach, the closing of that based had caused all manner of protest. When we went to be issued our s.h.i.+pyard badges we were warned that the FA designation indicating Forces Afloat might draw hostility from the yard workers since the admiral had decided to close the base. Many crew members and officers acquired other designations ADM indicating Administrator was taken by many officers; this actually restricted their access to the base and even the s.h.i.+p especially during off hours. Several enlisted to ORD designation which indicated Ordnance civilian contractor.

Given that warning and being very aware that the base was being closed by the congressional appropriations committee, sub-committee for base closures I took the FA designation signifying I was still navy. Attributes that I developed on my first s.h.i.+p were die-hard and cast in bra.s.s.

Preparing for the worst was just my cup of tea, and after what seemed to be a lifetime of heart break I was ready for someone to tempt my rage by coming at me misinformed and violent. The picket lines formed first on base right at the pier sentry point of the dry dock. They expected the admiral to reconsider. Personally, I had no understanding of how they came to believe that that level of authority existed in an admiral's position. Their apparent naivete was compounded by the unusually high concentration of military veterans in this civilian work place. I would later learn most service members that complete uneventful service never have the first clue about how things really worked.

We first informed them of their right to protest was not exercisable on a military installation. "Since when..." an angry man shouted not two inches from my face, "...no, since when. I was in the marine corps..." I interjected, "You were in the Marine Corps and you believe an admiral can shut down this base and shut down its budget, on his own authority; and that civilians can bring a picket line style protest right on base; interfering with the operations of the United States military?" I asked in a very authoritative manner.

He replied in angry confusion, "Well...no. Hey, but we're the United States military!"

I looked him up and down obviously a.s.sessing him and his statement and asked, "Do you remember how happy you were when you got out? Huh, no more working for idiots just because they out rank you? Having no say even in your own personal life?"