We spent pretty much the entire day swimming and sunning. At lunch we ate at the poolside café, and we sucked down some beers all day long. By mid-afternoon we had enough, so we headed back inside, to take a nap (eventually) and get ready for the evening. I must admit, I definitely enjoyed taking that swimsuit off her — it was so easy!
We dozed until about five or so, and then we had to clean up and get ready for the evening. Not only was it Formal Night in the HMS Pinafore Dining Room (everything on the ship was named after Broadway musicals — the theater/showroom was called the Annie Get Your Gun Show Lounge!), but before that, at 6:00, we and all the other newlyweds were cordially invited to the Captain’s Reception. We would have a formal receiving line and then champagne and caviar.
Marilyn isn’t big on dressing up fancy, but she can and will on occasion. I remember when we did this the first time, she had bought a powder blue evening gown with spaghetti straps at the shoulders that could be untied and a tube top so it could be worn strapless. It looked awfully nice and matched my blue tuxedo, which looked awful (not awfully nice) on me. I remember when Maggie commented, “Wow, Mom, you used to be hot!” that what I thought was how young she looked in the picture. Well, I guess we both looked young.
This time, no idea why, Marilyn had bought a black evening gown, sleeveless and mostly backless, with a criss-crossing of tiny straps over the shoulders and across the back, and a pair of long slits, one up each thigh, to mid-thigh. When she came out of the bathroom wearing that dress, my eyes popped out and my mouth got dry, and I asked, “Want to blow off this dinner? I have much different plans now!”
She smiled at this, broadly, and said, “Not on your life!” Then she giggled at me. “Besides, by the time you get out of your getup, I’ll be old and gray!”
That much was probably true. My uniform had come back from the shipboard cleaner, and was in our cabin by the time we got back from the pool. An Army mess dress uniform, like all tuxedos, is ridiculously complicated. You have these special high rise pants, with suspenders. Cummerbund (whatever that is for!) A short tuxedo like jacket. More braid than a Park Avenue doorman. You have to wear real medals, not just the little ribbons. Even your officer’s cap is different! Just to confuse everybody, the cuff bands and lapels on your jacket had to be in your combat arms colors — red, in my case, for the artillery (infantry is blue, armor is yellow, etc.) Finally, if you were feeling really rich and stupid, and wanted to look like the ultimate pansy, it came with an optional cape, also lined with your combat arms color, so that you could dress like a cavalryman from the Napoleonic Wars! On the plus side, I looked good in it, but that was only because I was in decent shape, and not reed thin like before.
At least I didn’t have to wear jump boots with it.
“I’d be willing to give it a try!” I told her.
“Behave! Now get your key and we can go,” she laughed at me.
As we left the cabin, I ran my hand across her ass. “I don’t think you’re wearing panties,” I whispered to her. She swatted my hand and told me to behave myself, but she also turned bright red, so I suspected I was right. I was going to enjoy the evening!
The various newlyweds in the group all ended up queuing up in a lobby area towards the stern of the boat, outside of a door to one of the larger lounges. Probably two-thirds of the men were in tuxedos, with the rest in dark suits, and all the ladies had on something in the way of fancy dresses. I did notice that I was the only person in uniform, which surprised me a touch, since I had figured more than one soldier or sailor had gotten married in uniform. Still, it’s not a requirement, and it’s perfectly legal to wear a civilian tux, at least off base and at non-military events. With three out of four in my wedding party in the service, it had seemed like a good idea to me.
As we stood in line to enter and meet the captain, Marilyn began talking to the people right before us. They looked familiar to me for some reason, and it quickly came out that they had been a couple of deck chairs down from us out at the pool this afternoon. John and Mary Smith were only a couple of years older than we were, and he was in a traditional black tux while she had on a dark grey evening gown. Marilyn introduced us. Mary smiled at me and said, “Very spiffy! Is that a uniform?”
John and Mary were much nicer than Harrison and Melissa the other night. She just didn’t know anything about the Army. I explained the types of uniforms as we slowly moved towards the front. John commented, “I thought you were in the service earlier, when I saw your dog tags.”
I nodded. “I’ve been wearing them so long, I forget I have them on,” I told him.
“What are they for?” asked Mary. “Some sort of identification?”
“Precisely.”
“In case something happens to you, right?” asked John.
“Precisely.”
The others contemplated this, Marilyn perhaps for the first time. Her only comments over the years had been that they tickled her sometimes when we were fooling around. Mary then asked, “So why do you have two?”
“Well, originally you only had one. The tradition started in the Civil War. At some of the battles, the men knew the casualties would be so bad, they wrote their names on pieces of paper and pinned them to their backs before attacking. At Cold Harbor and Petersburg, in fact, it was really gruesome.”
“You mean…” asked John.
I lowered my voice a touch. “I mean that you could walk across the battlefield from one end to the other without stepping on the ground.”
Marilyn looked a little green at that. Mary said, “Yuck!” I just shrugged. Hey, they asked. “So why do you have two, then?” she continued.
“That’s some more ‘yuck.’” She nodded in curiosity. “Okay, you asked. In the event somebody buys the farm, I take one of the tags with me back to base. Since I might have to leave the body on the battlefield, I take the other and jam it into the teeth so it won’t fall out.”
Now it was Mary’s turn to turn green and Marilyn went, “Yuck!”
“You asked.”
John commented, “Not going to be too good looking in the casket, I would guess.”
I smiled at that. “You buy it in combat, it’s a closed casket, no matter what!”
“Will you two change the subject!?” asked Marilyn.
I just smiled and shrugged. John grinned back. We started talking about his job as an insurance adjuster, which bored me to tears, but the only people who like insurance are other insurance people.
Eventually we got towards the front of the line. Your names were taken by a formally dressed woman from the cruise staff, and then when you got to where the captain was standing, she announced you to him. You would shake hands, perhaps make a little chit-chat, and then head into the lounge for the champagne and caviar. It was then that I had a sudden case of nerves. The captain was in his full dress whites!
So what? So, I was in uniform, too! My rank was a hell of a lot lower than his. Normally it wouldn’t matter, since if I was in civilian clothing, there is no requirement to salute or stand at attention. We could have shook hands and moved along. But I was in uniform.