The Mail buoy

life can take you away

                         The Mail-Buoy

Standing on the cat walk of the aircraft carrier, Finch stained his eyes looking at a menacing North Atlantic... Even dressed in foul weather gear the icy salt spray scratched at his face and chilled him to the bone. He was rigidly alert searching the dark waters for the mail-buoy.  Hooking the buoy was a huge responsibility because the mail for the whole ship was in it and if he missed it no one would get their mail.

Chief Martin had explained this job to him in great detail.  If he missed the buoy there would be ‘Hell to pay’.  Finch held the long heavy boat hook in his hands as the dark water undulated just a few feet below his feet. 

                                                            ************ 

Mark Finch was a broad-shouldered country boy who was perpetually rendered slack-jawed by too much new experience coming too quickly.  No matter what was going on around him he moved with deliberation . Mark was not dense or stupid. Farm life allowed little time to consider the great questions of the universe.  Cows made milk, crap and more cows and everyday he had to deal with all of that and the crops.  Great thoughts were for those with time to spare. He had none.

But then a special letter from his Uncle Sam changed his life and outlook forever. He had been drafted.  Oh, he had thought about serving in the military - in the Navy like his father - but at some future time.  The letter made that future, now.

“Dad, it looks like you better get a hired hand. I’m going to be leaving for a few years.”, Mark said to his father still holding the letter in his hand.

“Where’ya you going?  You know I need you around here.  Why do you want to leave now?” his father asked.

“Not my choice.  The government says I have to go now. I’ve been drafted.” Mark explained.

Mark’s father picked up his pipe, filled, packed, lit and took a long pull on it

“Well, I guess that settles it. When you gotta go?”

“

The letter says I have to report for a physical on May 5^th. Then, if I pass that, I would report for duty in June.” Mark stated.

His military physical was a whirlwind of activity.  Mark now knew how farm

animals felt.  He was herded around, left to wait for endless amounts of time with many others just like him and every part of him was examined with no thought for his comfort or privacy. He endured all of it with the patience of stone wall.

At the end of the day, all that mattered to him was did he pass or not. As it turned out, he did and the date of his departure to whatever the Navy would provide was set.

“It seems crazy to me, Marky, that you, just a boy, are being forced into the service.”, stated his mother in an edgy voice.

“Mom, I’m full grown and I’m supposed to serve my country when called on.” stated Mark gravely.

“I know, Son, but I just want you to stay here. I know you feel grown but to me you are still my baby.  But I knew this day would come and you know I love you..”, all of this with just a few quiet tears. Then she turned away and left the room.

His Dad took him to the bus station.  Mark was grateful that the teary goodbyes of his mother were behind him as they reached the bus station. He thought she treated him as though he was still twelve years old even though he was a full grown eighteen.

“Well, I guess from now on you will have to figure it out yourself and I know you will.  Keep your head down and do what you are told”, was the advice his father gave as they shook hands. Many years before his father had gotten on a bus himself and gone off to World War II, also as a sailor.

They gave each other a meaningful nod, and then Mark turned his back and boarded the bus. No one on the bus looked up and he felt as though he had disappeared off the face of the planet. He had never known such a lonely feeling in his life and he hardened his heart against it as the bus bounced along into the darkness.

It was a two day ride to the training center at Great Lakes, Illinois.  Every hour was a blank experience that combined boredom and nervous excitement. Along the way others in his same situation came on to the bus. A community of the fearful all attempting to be brave in the face of the unknown formed, absorbing each new member as they boarded the bus.

“You a recruit too?”, another of the pathetic bunch asked Mark. 

Mark shrugged his shoulders and said, AI guess so.@

“Well, my name is Rick and if you guess so, then you probably are one of the doomed, like me.”

“What do you mean doomed?”, Mark asked liking Rick but not sure why.

“We on our way to boot camp have little to say about what happens to us - now do we?.”

“You’re right.”, agreed Mark, Abut it doesn’t= sound too good when you say it like that.”

“Believing the worst is going to happen has always worked for me. In every situation I can remember, what did happen has

been better than what I thought would happen” Rick stated.

Hearing this, Mark did something he never could remember doing before - he pondered.

But like all other things, the pondering ended as the bus passed through the training center=s front gate.  All eyes were fixed on the chief petty officer standing with his assistant as the bus pulled up to them.

There in the spotlight of a street-lamp stood all five feet four inches of nasty bull dog looking Chief Elwood Bosworth.

Although his first name was Elwood not even his mother dared call him that for many years now. It was said that the Chief could make a grown man cry with a mere whisper of disapproval.

“Get off that bus you spastic fools and line up on the yellow line. I MEAN RIGHT NOW!”, The Chief bellowed. 

As the recruits stumbled off the bus scared awake but still groggy with exhaustion, The chief shook his head with clear disdain and disgust.

“Get your toes on that yellow line and stand up straight. Well, as straight as you can. Now.”, he instructed in menacing growl.

“My name is Chief Bosworth and it is my unfortunate duty to take you ladies in hand and change you from the spastic pukes that you are into sailors. Looking at you I’m not sure even God Himself could do that.  But one of the things I am going to teach you is to follow orders, so I will start your education by you following mine.  No matter whether I believe I can be successful or not we will work on it together. I will encourage you in every way I can think of.” He said smiling grimly.  

Standing there his toes on the yellow line and knew he was in for some trouble. 

For the next several hours the bus group was joined by several more of the recruits and was herded from place to place.

At each location they were subjected to some new indignity.  All hair was removed, personal possessions were sent home, uniforms were issued and on and on. 

Then at about 4AM everything came to a halt. They were all taken to an ancient barracks and told to go to bed and that they would have to wait for breakfast as they had missed dinner. Even though they were hungry and there were no sheets on the beds, they were asleep in minutes.

Mark, however, lay on the bare mattress. Sleep didn’t come. He wondered how he would cope with all this.  But wondering just gave way to exhaustion and just as his eyes closed they were jarred open by strange loud noises.

An overweight man in his underwear was hitting a metal trash can with a broomstick while yelling �" “All right, you spastic pukes drop your c***s and grab your socks. Get out of those racks and line up.”

Not knowing whether he was awake or asleep, he got to his feet and stood before his bed. Nothing made any sense. He gave up trying to understand what was going on. Head down, do what you=re told - his father=s words came back to him.

They were told that they were now company 64 and their boss was the sweet tempered Chief Bosworth. All of this from the heavy set guy in his underwear whose name turned out to be Petty Officer 3^rd Class Crouch. 

“It is my primary job to keep the Chief from killing any of you.  Not for your good but for his. I'm supposed to keep him out of trouble, so help me by trying not to be the idiots that you appear to be. A bit of friendly advice - when he says jump, jump. Don=t think. Just do it.”

Mark wondered what was going to happen to him.  He knew that he wasn’t going to do well with the chief, Crouch or anyone at this place.  The 8 weeks of basic training stretched out in front of him like a marathon of despair. His heart sank inside him.

But there was little time for despair.  The first day had started and the most mundane of personal tasks had to be done. 

Everything no matter how personal had to be done with all the other men in his company.  There was no privacy.  Showering to shaving to toilet use - everything was done with the others. 

Mark was always a very private person; he found it difficult to be naked even when he was alone.  Now he would have to learn another way to be.

 From these basic human functions to the ins and outs of military life everything was shoved into his head with little or no explanation. The phrase The right way, the wrong way and the Navy Way@ was repeated so often I was never out of his head. It became >the Navy way= was the only way. He learned to accept this no matter how stupid it seemed.

“Seaman Apprentice Finch, where are you from, boy?”, Chief Bosworth screamed.

“Sir, I=m from Idaho, Sir.” muttered Finch.

“I can’t hear you!@ , screamed the Chief.

“Sir, I’m from Idaho, Sir.” Finch yelled, red faced with the effort.

“

Well, that explains it.”, the Chief went on in a sinister stage whisper. “Idaho is where potatoes come from and you’re about as smart as a potato. From now on your name is Spud” 

Even though it made him flinch every time the chief called him Spud, he tried to let it go. The chief always seemed to be making him an example of that was done wrong or some kind of stupid behavior. At those times Mark just put up with it.

Instinctively, Mark knew that boot camp was not a new concept and everything was done for a reason. Team work was pounded by adversity into each member of his company.  He stopped thinking of his individual welfare and learned to value the success of his company above everything.  He knew the strengths and weaknesses .of each member and helped capitalized on the one and minimized the other.

Even though they seemed endless the weeks passed and unlooked for graduation day came.  Release from Boot camp to assigned duty in the fleet came as much of a surprise as to a prisoner reentering the world. Mark’s heart almost burst with pride as he marched in the graduation parade.

After the graduation his company was called together and all received their orders. It was not a surprise to Mark that that he was assigned to a ship �" the USS Essex.  He was to report within a few days to his ship at its home port of Quonset Point, Road Island.

Even though it was more unknowns to deal with a part of him was kind of excited. Leaving Boot Camp he now thought of himself as a real sailor and his real service was about to start.

He was also very happy to put the abuse and ridicule of Great Lakes training center and Chief Bosworth behind him. He had been the butt of every kind of joke and hazing from not only his superiors but from his peers, as well. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore and that he was going to explode, it was over.  He believed it would be much better in the real navy.

When he arrived at his home port he discovered his ship hadn’t arrived back from a cruise and he was assigned to temporary duty while waiting for it.  In a way it was a real gift because little demand was placed on him and he had weekends off.  Most of the time he stood watch on dumpsters.  He knew it was make work but he just relaxed and did it.

After a few weeks his ship arrived and he carrying his sea bag on his shoulder reported aboard.  Having no designated job area he was assigned to G-4 Division which preforms the basic maintenance of the ship. They did the thankless but vital upkeep of the weather decks. It was hard work and required no special training.  Mark was reminded of the farm and felt very comfortable doing this job, until he met Chief Martin.

Chief Martin didn’t like anybody, including himself.  He felt his job was beneath him and believed all his years of experience in the navy entitled him to special respect from all other sailors. No one could remember the last time he had been in a good mood.  Most believed that it was not possible for him a positive thought He rarely spoke unless it was a yell or growl.

It was instant hate, when Chief Martin first saw Mark. He rode him like a pony from day one.  Mark’s unshakable attempts to do a good job no matter how nasty the job was, only fanned the flames of the chief’s animosity.

“Finch, you are a useless pile of flesh. No matter what I assign you �" you screw it up royally. I wonder why God has punished me by me responsible for you. But know this as much as he has punished me, I intend to punish you more. There is no escape for you especially out to sea. I own you twenty-four hours a day every day we are out of port. I intend to make our time together a memory your dense brain will never forget”

This kind of speech became at least a daily event, some days more than once.

When Mark was assigned the mail buoy watch, he was puzzled. Why would the chief trust him with anything �" particularly something this important? Not only had the chief shown him trust but the chief had ensured he was equipped with all the best equipment to do the job.

He wondered if things were getting better with the chief.  He dared to hope that was the case. Months of abuse had been heaped on him for no reason he could figure. But maybe now things would get better.

So standing there in the freezing cold with a numb face, he was determined to get the job done correctly. No one could be as steadfast as Mark once he made up his mind to it.

Hours went by and even with the foul weather gear he was chilled to the bone. Despite his best efforts he shook uncontrollably and had trouble focusing.

All of a sudden, he became aware that someone was standing next to him.

A commanding voice said, “Sailor, what are you doing out here?”

He turned to see the ship’s captain standing there looking intently at him.

Nearly dropping the boat hook, Mark came to attention and reported, “Sir, I have the mail buoy watch, Sir.”

“I see.” said the captain. “How long have you been out here on this watch?”

“Sir, I have been on this post for four hours. Sir”

“Who put you on this watch?” asked the captain.

“Sir Chief Martin assigned me this duty.”

“Well, I think you have watched long enough.. Give me that boat hook.”

“But Captain, what about the mail buoy?”

“Sailor, I’ll wait here while you go and tell Chief Martin that I want him to suit up in foul weather gear and join me here right now. Don’t worry about the mail Buoy. Get going!.” 

“Aye Aye Captain.” Martin exclaimed as he left.

Chief Martin had just climbed into his rack.  He laid there wondering how Finch was doing. He was chuckling to himself about it when Mark knocked and entered the chief’s space.

“What is it, Finch? Why aren’t you on your watch? I didn’t relive you.”

Chief, the Captain sent me to get you. He wants you to put on foul weather gear and join him on the catwalk.” Mark said carefully.

“

What?” shouted the chief.

“He said right now, chief” Mark said.

The chief got out of his rack and said as he left, “This is not going to be good for you Finch.”

This statement by Chief Martin didn’t surprise Mark. He knew it was never going to be good for him.  But he also had learned that when you weren’t in trouble �" you should sleep so he went to bed.

It was four hours later when Chief Martin woke up Martin by screaming in his ear. 

“You have gotten me on the Captain’s list and I am not happy!”

“But chief the captain came to me I didn’t look for him.  I only answered his questions.”

“I don’t care about the details. You got me on the captain’s list and now you are on my list forever. Right at the top.”

Martin knew there was never to be peace between him and the chief.

Chief Martin was very careful.  Every nasty job that he could find he gave to Mark but did it quietly.  Strangely, when there was liberty in port Mark always had the duty and didn’t get the time off But this harassment was done so carefully that no one said a word in Mark’s defense or even noticed that it was happening..

But Mark noticed and he could get no rest.  He didn’t sleep even when left alone and didn’t eat much either. He had no friends because no one would cross chief martin

When he was alone Mark sat and stared off into space.  If not interfered with he didn’t move.

But the chief could not pass up any opportunity to push on Mark, he was relentless and when he got no response but compliance from Mark he pushed even harder.

Weeks went by with little change.

One night when Mark was carrying trash to the fantail with chief Martin chewing on his ear, He stared laughing softly.

“What the hell are you laughing at, you moron!” screamed the chief.

Mark stopped in his tracks and said, “I was remembering that I dreamed you died last night.”

“What!?” yelled the chief, “I make you wish that I died last night!”

Mark stood over the chief’s body with a dogging wrench in his shaking hand.  He didn’t know what happened. One moment the chief was standing there screaming and then he was a dead mass of flesh.

No one was in the area at that moment.

Mark threw the wrench over the side of the ship and dragged the chief to the fantail railing.  There was no thought in these actions he just did them.  Survival was his only thought and the chief’s body was just more trash to throw overboard. As the chief’s body fell into the sea Mark chuckled and said, Make sure you don’t miss the mail buoy, chief.”

Mark sat down on the deck and wept. 

After an hour or so, he got up and went to his berthing space and crawled into his rack. A deep sleep wrapped around him.

What seemed to be a short time later he was shaken awake by Jim who had the rack below him.

“Mark, the chief is gone. No one can find him anywhere.”

Suddenly, Mark was wide awake. The sleep he had awakened from made things that had happened the night before seem more like dreams then reality.  He could not believe the chief was gone but deep down he knew it was true.

At first a smile came to his lips and then the realization of what he had done slapped it away. He wept again, not for the chief but for the farm boy that had died that night.

Sitting in the day hall in the VA hospital, Mark rocked back and forth on the chair. He never said much but mumbled over and over “Don’t miss the mail buoy.”