Adventures In Navyland. Joe Psy.D. Callihan

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СКАЧАТЬ But for this portion of the story, let’s just call him Jim. Jim had deliberately rubbed his white hat on the floor, getting dirt on it. But that was small stuff! Once we arrived, we all had to remove our “P” coat. This revealed Jim had on the undress blue uniform, the one without the white stripe. We all had been so worried about our own look, no one had noticed this. It obviously was too late to do anything.

      But then came the time to be inspected for empty pockets. As it turned out, Jim had his pockets filled with coins and pieces of paper, every single pocket had junk in it. Did I hear someone say demerits? The company commander was not happy or impressed. But he did not say much until we returned to our barracks.

      WATCH OUT! First he asked Jim why he had chosen to do what he had done. “I don’t want any part of your Navy! I just want out!” was Jim’s belligerent reply. The company commander, a Chief Petty Officer, (let’s call him Mel) had Jim dive and give him fifty push ups. Jim did this with apparent ease. Next, he commanded Jim to do fifty sit ups. Again he complied effortlessly.

      This exercising went on for about forty five minutes. I became exhausted just watching Jim. But he seemed to be Superman. He did repetitions over and over again, and remained fresh and full of energy. We all were amazed at his apparent stamina. When the company commander finally had him stop, he asked Jim if he had learned his lesson, to which Jim replied he had. “Well let’s hope so,” Mel said. “I would not want to be in your shoes if you’re lying to me!”

      The next day as we were due to go over for inspection again; about an hour before leaving, the company commander came to check Jim out. “I see you have on a clean hat and the right uniform. That’s good! Now, do you have anything in any of your pockets?” “No sir, not a thing,” Jim answered. “Let me see,” Mel said as he reached inside Jim’s coat pocket. What did he find? Not only his coat pocket, but all of his pockets were filled with even more coins and pieces of paper, than the day before.

      At this Mel became enraged. Slapping Jim hard across the face, Jim’s head turning with the blow, the commander said, “You’re nothing but a GD liar aren’t you?” “Yes, I am,” Jim replied. Mel, backhanding him hard across the face, turning Jim’s head the other way, then said, “Your whole family is nothing but liars!” Jim again agreed, saying, “Yes, you’re right!” Striking him again with a full open hand slap, the commander said, “Your mother is nothing but a liar!” “Yes!” Jim replied. Backhanding him again, Mel said, “Your father is nothing but a liar!” “You’ve got that right!” Jim said.

      Frustrated, the commander then said to Jim, “You think you’re going to be a pain in my butt, don’t you?” “Of course, I’m trying” Jim boldly agreed. “Well you’re not! You are a pain in the butt of everyone in your company. I’m going to turn you over to them, and let them straighten you out!” Jim just looked coldly and emotionlessly into the commander’s eyes, no sign of fear. Perhaps he had no idea of what horror was to come as the result of what the commander had just done. I don’t think at that point, any of us actually realized what gravely bad judgment the company commander had made in his decision.

      I must admit, at first, not fully understanding the seriousness of Jim’s condition, I participated in his “straightening out.” I, like many others, was thinking he was just being a smart aleck goof off. So occasionally I would come by him and give him a light punch on the arm saying, “Straighten out buddy!” But soon things were to become progressively worse.

      One morning at around two o’clock, we were awakened and told we had to get dressed and go outside to find Jim. It appears he decided to try to run away. The temperature was 20 degrees outside, so no one was happy; especially as we were due to get up at 6 A.M. to begin another busy day. After about an hour of searching, they found Jim hiding in a dumpster. He was brought back to the barracks, and a guard was assigned to watch him every hour.

      That morning as I was coming out of the bathroom, having shaved and gathered my laundry, which had dried overnight on the line, I watched Jim being run around and around the barracks by the acting mail petty officer. I knew they had kept him up all that night, cleaning the tile floor in the bathroom with a toothbrush. The acting mail petty officer would run him around, then order Jim to stop. He would then ask him to turn to the port side. Jim would turn to his left. At this, the guy would hit Jim in the back so hard you could hear his lungs echo. “That’s not port stupid,” his torturer would say. “Yes it is,” Jim would accurately reply. Pounding him in the back again, the bad guy would say, “Don’t you tell me what is and isn’t port. If I say that isn’t port, then it isn’t port!”

      This was how it had gone for about thirty minutes. Any direction Jim chose to turn was the wrong direction according to his torturer. Always this would elicit a hard punch in the back as his reward for being wrong. When I was nearing the door to our bathroom, my laundry over my shoulder; the acting mail petty officer decided to stop to get a drink of water from the nearby fountain. They were standing approximately thirty feet away from me.

      The bad guy got his drink of water as Jim watched. “Would you like a drink of water,” he asked Jim. Nodding his head yes, he told Jim to go ahead. Then suddenly he stopped Jim. “Wait a minute, there’s something missing!” The bad guy then commanded Jim to open his mouth. As Jim did, he yanked off his hat, rolling it up; he placed it in Jim’s open mouth. “Do you still want a drink,” he asked. Again nodding his head yes, Jim went to remove his hat, as he bent over. “No you don’t! Leave the hat in!”

      Running the water, with his hat inside his mouth, Jim attempted to get water inside his parched body. Suddenly, the acting mail petty officer pushed down on Jim’s head from behind. This caused the fountain’s cover to cut into Jim’s gums. He was bleeding rapidly, and yet still attempting to get water into his mouth. Pounding his back again, the bad guy said, “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve got your hat all red with blood. You are so STUPID!”

      I had seen enough. I casually made the comment out loud to myself, “I’ve never seen anyone so badly mistreated;” not knowing (really not even caring to know) that Fred, the acting master at arms was standing directly behind me, and had overheard what I had said to myself. This guy Fred looked and sounded like the actor George Kennedy in his appearance and voice. Most likely he was chosen to be the master at arms, because he was the largest guy in the company. At least 6’5, Fred called to me from behind saying, “Mistreated! What do you mean he’s mistreated? How about the way he’s treating us? Don’t you ever let me hear you say he’s mistreated again!”

      I just calmly looked Fred in the eyes and replied, “Look, if I say he’s mistreated, he’s mistreated!” I was ready and eager to fight Fred if it came to that. But the acting mail petty officer, having overheard our loud disagreement, called out to me. “Hey buddy! How would you like to be in his place?” My Irish temper knew the perfect remark he needed to hear. “Buddy, if I were in his place, I’d knock your teeth out!” “Oh yeah! You want to try?” “Sure, I’d be glad to,” I said, as I began to walk toward him. I WAS MAD!

      Then from behind a voice called out, “Wait, if we get into a fight over this guy, we all will be held over for six months. I don’t know about you, but this place has not been fun, it’s more like Hell! Please don’t fight over this kid,” he begged. Others joined in, agreeing with the mystery voice. “O.K., I said, but if I see you hitting that kid again, I’m going to hit you – repeatedly, until even your mother won’t recognize you.” At this, the bad guy pushed on Jim, then walked away from him.

      Pretty tense huh? Don’t worry. It gets much, much worse!

      Poor Jim, he got the infamous wire brush scrub down in the shower. Blood would be streaming from his arms, chest, back, and legs. During this, several guys would strike him with wet towels.

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