82. Sorry, Say Again … This Ship Is Headed Where?

The next afternoon when Morris returned from work, we shared a lite meal and then he drove me the just over 30 miles east towards Concord -to the USCNWS to be exact.  

It was near dark by the time we arrived at the gate of this high security dock.  We looked curiously at the sign reading Concord Naval Weapons Station but really I didn’t think too much about it at that moment.  

I felt privileged to utilize for the 1st time my security clearance card which got us both into the facility.  We were instructed on where to park the car and told to walk over to the one and only ship at the dock.  It was the Trans Western ship to which I was assigned.  Again my identification was checked.

Morris was still carrying my suitcase for me and was allowed to walk onto the ship as well.  It was the Chief Steward who I was instructed to look for, one deck up.  He would be the one to give me further instructions which of course would include more paperwork.  

We found him soon enough.  He was friendly and didn’t seem to mind stopping his routine to break and usher me through the steps.  He mentioned I would meet up with the ship’s skipper tomorrow.

Morris’ curiosity has his eyes roaming our surroundings and he’s still standing beside me when the CS asks me this, “Do you know where we are headed to?”  

Actually no, I didn’t and said as much.  Immediately I also added my intentions which of course were to head to Fiji.  Yes Fiji and well, the CS laughed at this.  

Not understanding his laugh I cracked a little smile too; he saw this on my face.  He replied, “Did you happen to see what’s being loaded on to this ship?”  I answered him telling him I did notice the cranes loading the ship but I really had no idea what the payload consisted of.

“I’m afraid we’re headed in an entirely different direction.  Those are napalm bombs man, we’re headed to Vietnam!”  I was struck with disbelief and definitely in shock.  “It’s too late Blue, you already signed the papers back at the Seafarers’ Union.  Sorry to tell you this,” the CS shook his head, “..the rest of the paperwork to be signed, you’ll do with the skipper tomorrow.”

It’s true, I did sign the papers yesterday and now I would have to comply.   It was time for Morris to leave me, he was speechless until he found his voice and then, he assured me he’d get ahold of Diana and give her the news.  

There was nothing I could do, nothing.  I knew I wasn’t going back to Los Angeles till I didn’t know when.  I was headed into a terrible war zone.

When isn’t war terrible?  

I was absolutely floored, Morris was gone and now I’d have to shift gears in my thoughts and behavior, my attitude.  I had to get used to the idea of this radical change in my life.  It was a definite change that would affect my entire family, only I had no idea exactly how.

The Chief Steward, I’ll name him Phil, quickly picked up the pieces of a shell-shocked young man in front of him and took me to show the cabin I’d occupy; I would be sharing it with one other young fellow.  

Along the way we stopped to grab the linens necessary for me in my new home for however long it would be.  I would leave my suitcase there and then we’d tour the ship.

There was much to show me and soon enough (not that I really forgot my earlier surprise.  No, no!)  I was in grateful-to-be-employed mode and absorbing all the information which I knew would be useful to do the best in my job.  

Phil told me I wouldn’t be working in the main dining room.  Instead I was assigned to the captain himself.  I was to attend the skipper and at meal time, the officers of the ship were part of my space.  He showed me everything there was to see on this ship, offering tips and advice to be as comfortable as possible.  

“Anything you feel like eating, you just let the chef know,” he offered.  He also told me I was welcome to come into the kitchen and grab a snack or anything I needed in a moment, permission already granted.

Phil asked me if I wanted some dinner and honestly I was lacking an appetite.  I wonder why.  I had a cup of coffee and retired to my room.  I unpacked my things into the dresser/closet thing beside my bed.  

While there was a bed next the window I chose the one beside the door.  I made my bed, washed up and fell asleep, knowing I’d be sharing my rude awakening with my wife tomorrow.

|||


Concord Naval Weapons Station –  located in north-­central California about 70 miles southwest of the capital of Sacramento, in Contra Costa County. 

napalm bombs – often referred to as the  jellybomb; there’s a website called GlobalSecurity.org which gives the lethal, grim description of this weapon saying napalm can have a gel-like consistency, which would cause it to stick to the designated targets.

73. It’s Always Hit Or Miss With A Swerving Angel

Our friends next door hadn’t been home all day, there was no hope they’d heard any of this.  And after what seemed like hours of anticipating a certain death, sirens began to pierce the air, a lot of sirens.  

Snapping the both of us back into reality because mark my words we were fading into a dreamlike state; a wave of relief washed over the both of us.  I could see the color race back into Diana’s face.

I looked out of the window thinking I’d see squad cars racing into the alley below and while I didn’t see any, the sirens were louder still.  They had arrived.   

Surely our neighbor had dashed back upstairs as usual when the sirens came.  I heard the many footsteps racing up the flight of stairs.  

612 Pico Boulevard #8A very loud crashing sound followed; the police must’ve busted down his front door.  There was no polite knocking on their part, not since a gun was reported this time. Reported?  

Oh my goodness! the man in the alley.  He must’ve taken action after all, conveying our unfortunate situation to the police.  Bless you sir, to this day, bless you!!  That swerving man must’ve been an angel in disguise.  And fortunate for us the Santa Monica Police Station wasn’t but about ½ a mile to the northwest of us.  It seemed as though the odds tipped to our favor.

We stayed in the bedroom until there was a solid knock at our front door.  I got up and went to peek out the curtain.  I saw three officers standing there.  Feeling largely comforted and still quite shaken, I opened the door.

They were of course checking on us to be sure no one was hurt and to let us know the man and his weapon were apprehended.  Our neighbor was being brought out of his apartment in cuffs and just as they were coming down the steps, I took a curious glance upward past him,  to his front door.

The woman and teenaged boy were standing there watching and then the young man began to curse at me, threatening that he’d come after me.  One of the officer’s directed me to remain inside my apartment at least until they had the man in the squad car.

I went back inside and closed the door.  Diana was already in the living room, standing in anticipation, children safe in the bedroom.  So it seemed the worst was over.  While my wife and I were taking deep breaths and discussing the moments, there was another knock at the door.

Our hearts both skipped a beat at the same time, I’m sure.  I got up and first did the curtain peek thing.  Diana had already went and stood at the bedroom door … just in case.

|||