“Sir?”
“You heard me, goddammit. Regulation is black socks. The uniform of the day is posted every day in the midships passageway, Peters. The uniform for today is dungarees, white caps, black socks and black shoes. Are you aware of that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know that we are here on shakedown cruise, Peters?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know that the squadron commander may pop in on this ship at any moment? Do you know that? What do you think he’d say to me if he found men in white socks and moccasins? What the hell do you think this is, Peters? A goddamn country club?”
“No, sir.”
“When’s the last time you had a haircut, Peters?”
“Last week, sir.”
“Don’t lie to me, Peters.”
“Last week, sir,” I repeated.
“Then get down to the barber shop after sweepdown, do you understand? And you’d better shave, too, Peters. I don’t like any man in my crew looking like a bum.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I...”
“Get back to your station. And if I find you goofing off again, Peters, it’s going to be your hide, remember that. Now get going.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Change those socks and shoes first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And on the double, Peters.”
“Yes, sir.”
I left him and went down to the aft sleeping compartment. It was hotter down there, and you could feel the sweat clinging to the sides of the ship, dripping from the bulkheads. There was a stink down there, too, a stink worse than garbage, the stink of men living in cramped quarters. I went to my locker and lifted the top, and Ramsey, a radioman second, looked down from his sack. He was in his scivvies, and his bare chest and legs were coated with perspiration.
“Man,” he said, “and I thought it was hot in Georgia.”
“The old man is prowling,” I told him. “You better move your backside.”
“Let him prowl,” Ramsey said. “That one don’t scare me none.”
“No, huh?” I said. I took out a pair of black socks and the regulation black shoes, and then I kicked off the moccasins and pulled off the white socks. “Maybe you like losing liberty, huh, Ramsey? If the old man catches you sprawled out like that, you’ll get a Captain’s Mast, at least.”
“You know what he can do with his Mast, don’t you?” Ramsey asked, smiling and stretching out.
“How come you’re so brave, Ramsey?” I asked, putting on the black socks.
“How come? I let you in on a secret, Dave. You really want to know?”
“Yeah, how come?”
“I’m sick, man. I got me cat fever. The Chief Pharmacist’s Mate himself, he said I got to lay flat on my keester. That’s what he said. So let the old man come down here and say something, just let him. I’ll tell him just where the crowbar goes.”
“You wouldn’t tell him nothing,” I said, smiling. “You and the skipper are buddies.”
“Sure,” Ramsey said.
“I think you really like the old man.”
“Only one way I’d like him,” Ramsey said.
“How’s that?”
Ramsey rolled over. “Dead,” he said.
I went up to the radar shack after changing, and I got to work, piddling around with a bucket and a rag, wiping off the radar scopes, fooling with the plotting boards, making like I was working. The radar shack was about as big as a flea’s nose, and I’d already cleaned it thoroughly after chow. That made no difference to the Navy. In the Navy, you cleaned it again, or you pretended to clean it again. Anything to keep you busy. Anything to keep you from enjoying a swim when the thermometer was ready to pop.
Gary came in while I was behind the vertical plotting board, and he said, “What’re you doing, Peters?”
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I asked him.
“It looks like you’re working,” he said, “but I know that can’t be so.”
“Yeah, stow it,” I told him.
“You shouldn’t be nasty to noncommissioned officers, Peters,” he said. He smiled a crooked smile, and his buck teeth showed in his narrow face. “I could report you to the old man, you know.”
“You would, too,” I said.
“He don’t like you to begin with.” Gary smiled again, enjoying the three stripes he wore on his dress blues, enjoying the three stripes he’d inked onto his denim shirt. “What’d you do to the old boy, Dave?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Well, he sure don’t like you.”
“The feelings are mutual,” I said.
“You like mid watches, Dave?”
“Whattya mean?” I asked.
“We got to stand voice radio watch in port, you know that. Not enough radiomen. I showed the old man the watch list. Had you slated for a four to eight this afternoon.”
“So?”
“The old man told me to put you on the mid watch.”
“The mid watch? What the hell for? Why...”
“Nobody likes to drag up here at midnight, Dave,” Gary said. “But don’t be bitter.”
“What the hell did he do that for?” I asked.
Gary shook his head. “He just don’t like you, chum. Hell, he don’t like any enlisted man on this ship — but you he likes least of all.”
“The hell with him,” I said. “I’ve stood mid watches before. Ain’t no mid watch going to break me.”
“That’s the spirit,” Gary said drily. He paused a moment, and then said, “But you know something, Dave?”
“What?”
“If I had a character like the old man riding my tail, you know what I’d do?”
“No. What would you do?”
“I’d kill him,” he said softly. He looked at me steadily, and then turned. “Don’t want to interrupt your work, chum,” he said, and then he was gone.
I thought about that mid watch all morning and, when the chow whistle sounded, I dropped the bucket and rags and headed down for the main deck. I got in line and started talking with one of the guys, Crawley, a gunner’s mate. I had my back to the railing so I naturally couldn’t see what was going on behind me. Nobody yelled, “Attention!” either, so I didn’t know what was happening until I heard the old man’s voice say, “How about it, Peters?”
I turned slowly, and he was standing there with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face, but the smile didn’t reach those cold blue eyes of his.
“Sir?” I said.
“You know what this leaf on my collar means, Peters?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I was standing at attention now, and the sweat was streaming down my face, and my feet were sweating inside the black socks and black shoes.
“Do you know that an enlisted man is supposed to come to attention when an officer appears? Do you know that I am the captain of this ship, Peters?”
“Yes, sir. I know that.”
“I don’t think I like the tone of your voice, Peters.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Hereafter, Peters, you keep your eyes peeled, understand? And whenever you see me coming, I want you to shout, ‘Attention!’ in case there are any other members of the crew who don’t understand the meaning of respect. Do you understand that, Peters?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. And so you won’t forget it, Peters, perhaps we’ll forego liberty for a week when we get back to the States.”
“Sir, I...”
“That’ll do, Peters. I’ll discuss this with the Communications Officer, and you’ll be restricted to the ship for a week after we return to Norfolk.”
“I didn’t even see you, sir,” I said doggedly. “My back was...”
“It’s your business to see me, Peters. And from now on, you’d damn well better see me.”
“You’re the boss,” I said angrily.
“Yes, Peters,” the captain said coldly. “I am.” He looked at me steadily for another moment, and then addressed the other guys standing in line. “At ease,” he said, and he walked through the passageway near the mess hall and went into the washroom.