Chapter 2

Next, they sailed under the bridge into Sydney, and moored at Garden Island, near the Wooloomooloo district. While moored there, they had a great view of the Sydney Opera House across the harbor. Sydney has several small naval bases around the area, and a few of them invited the senior Petty Officers to attend luncheons, which ended up being drinking contests between the Aussies and the Yanks. More than once, Eddie went back to the ship nearly “shit-faced”(drunk), though not bad enough he couldn’t fulfil his duty to work the rest of the day. Afterall, a Yank is fully expected to uphold the honor of the U.S. Navy, and Eddie was as patriotic as the next sailor.

Eddie’s senior Petty Officer group was aboard another frigate, belonging to the Royal Australian Navy, for a luncheon. Amid hors d oeuvres, and a new beer before you’d had the chance to take two swigs off your first one, came the challenge to the Yanks. One of the Aussies held up two water glass, each with at least six to eight ounces of hard liquor in it. He dared any Yank to match him in tossing the drink back. There were stirrings among the American sailors, but no one was speaking up. From out of nowhere, Eddie heard himself say:

“You’re on, mate!”

He looked around, to see if anyone was doing a ventriloquism act, but realized it had come out of his mouth, or ass, as the case may be. He suddenly was being cheered on by Aussies and Yanks alike. Taking the glass from his Aussie ally, they toasted each other, and he tossed his back. He managed not to cough, sputter, or throw up, but it burned all the way down. Everybody cheered, and everyone were ‘mates’. Eddie knew he may be in trouble by the time the alcohol took full effect. Luckily the luncheon was winding down, so accompanied by Al, and DSC Mahoney, they thanked their hosts for a lovely time and hurried back to their ship, which was fortunately only a couple hundred yards down the quay. Eddie managed to cross the quarterdeck under his own steam, and then to chiefs’ berthing. Al made sure he got undressed and in his rack. DSC Mahoney promised to cover for him, if anything came up. It was only minutes later that he drifted off into an alcoholic fueled, dreamless sleep. When he awoke around 2000 (8pm), and staggered into the chiefs’ mess lounge, Al was waiting with aspirin and a large glass of water. After Eddie had popped the tablets and guzzled the water, Al told him to go eat. They had left a dinner plate for him in the reefer, and he warmed it in the microwave. He was surprised he didn’t puke it back up, but it went down well, and he had no ill effects from eating. He then stayed up until after midnight, waiting until he was tired, before returning to his bunk. The next morning, he didn’t have a hangover, thanks to Al!

Eddie had been solicited in many countries, in many languages and dialects, by women old enough to be his grandmother, and by girls young enough to be his daughter, or even younger. He’d even been hit on by ‘Benny-Boys’, as cross-dressing guys are sometimes called. But there was something totally charming, to him, to walk through the Wooloomooloo district, and be asked by a nice-looking, buxom Aussie hooker: “Ya wanna have a go?” Well, maybe you had to be there, because Eddie sure as hell got a kick out of it!

During the cruise, Eddie had gone on liberty with a couple of other chiefs, mostly with his buddy, Al. One or two were lucky enough to score with some Aussie chick. Since chiefs are usually in their late twenties to early forties, they usually made it with a woman around the same age, except for that select few who preferred younger women (in some countries of the world, it was not unusual for young, teenage girls to prostitute themselves, with the full knowledge of their family. It helped support the family; thus, it was an honorable, or at least tolerated profession).

Eddie was now in Sydney, Australia, and horny! He had read the “Host-a-Sailor” board the first couple days in port, and hadn’t seen too much of interest, but then he spotted a message that requested 3 or 4 “thirty-plus” sailors to go to a birthday party. He approached Al and some of the other chiefs, and they told him to call on it. When he dialed the number, a woman answered. He said:

“This is Eddie Nolan, off the USS ____________, and I’m calling to get the particulars for an invitation to your party.”

The woman seemed pleased someone was responding to the invite. She gave Eddie the address, and rough directions to the party site. As a parting question, he asked her if there was a particular style of “dress” they should wear. Of course, he meant formal, informal, casual, etc., but she quipped:

“Oh, I think if you wore a dress, we would be very disappointed!”

She and Eddie had a good laugh at that, and the conversation ended. The party was for the next evening, and there were four chiefs going. They each did a different job on the ship, since a ship that size could only accommodate one chief for a particular specialty, or rating. Telling what the ratings were would only bore the readers who may have no knowledge of Navy Ratings, and it would add nothing to the story.

Sharing the taxi fare to the given address, Eddie pushed the bell at the front door of a fashionable apartment building in Paramatta, a suburb of Sydney. Without asking who was there, the door release was pushed, and the chiefs started up the stairs. Everything was already in full, festive swing, and they walked into an open door on the second floor. As they entered, and recognized as strangers, they were approached by an attractive woman, who turned out to be their hostess, Valda, the lady Eddie had spoken with on the phone. Not only that, but the birthday party was in her honor.

The apartment was a large, comfortable place, the English, or Continental influence was apparent. As the Yanks began mingling with the other partygoers, they were introduced all around. It was a friendly group, probably thirty or forty, and they immediately made the sailors feel at ease. After a few get-acquainted parlor games, Eddie decided to relax a bit, and found himself sitting in an easy chair watching the other revelers: kind of kicked back and mellow. He wasn’t drinking that night, so enjoyed just watching. Walking up to the chair, Valda asked if everything was O.K. He assured her everything was great, and he was enjoying himself. She seemed pleased. Then, she just casually sat in his lap. He didn’t have a clue as to what to do, so he simply took her hand and held it, wishing her a Happy Birthday. Sitting there for about ten minutes, they made small talk, then she got up and went off to continue performing her hostess duties. The group played more parlor games, such as “Charades”, and the Yanks got a kick out of the friendly sarcasm traded between the Aussies, English, and New Zealanders (Kiwis), who were present at the party. It was much like the gentle chiding which goes on in the military, when people from different parts of the U.S. are thrown together (i.e. New Englanders, Southerners, Texans, Californians, etc.), or between different branches of the military. A good time was being had by all.

As it approached eleven in the evening, the Yanks began to worry how they were going to get back to the ship. One of the guests was a taxi driver by trade and owned a large car for his family’s use. Saying he could accommodate them, and knowing the way to the Garden Island Base, the chiefs stayed until the taxi driver and his wife decided to leave the party. When it was announced that the Yanks were leaving, they were met with a surprise. Several of the women at the party formed a line at the door, and as the Yanks filed past, they gave each of them a kiss. Now, this kiss was not just a peck, or one of those anemic smooch-into-the air things you sometimes see. Each woman gave a full-on, mouth-to-mouth kiss! What’s more, the next woman in line, felt it a challenge to give a better kiss. By the time Eddie got half-way down the line, he was starting to get ‘tongue’! Oh, what an experience, especially for a horny sailor. The last in line was Valda, their hostess. Eddie didn’t know about the other guys, but she grabbed him by the ears, and nearly sucked his tongue out of his head. She also slipped a piece of folded paper into his hand. When he got a chance to check it out, it was her phone number, and the words: “Call Me!”

When Eddie called her the next day, she talked about a trip they had tentatively planned for the weekend, when the taxi driver, Mario, would rent a mini-bus, and they would visit one of the local parks and geologic formations: the “Three Sisters”. Mario’s wife would go along, with their children. Valda also recruited one of her girlfriends from the party. This time, there were only three chiefs going: Eddie, Al and the radioman chief.

On that Sunday, they were picked up at the ship, by Mario, and off they went. The scenery was very pleasant, and the conversation was stimulating. When they got to the park, the sights were spectacular, and Valda and Eddie stuck close to each other. Being with Valda was a pleasure. She was intelligent, witty, and thoroughly watchable. Although she was twelve years Eddie’s senior, she had a gorgeous figure, with nicely flaring hips and a nice sized set of tits. He dearly wanted to find out what they looked like in the flesh, but neither of them made any improper gestures toward one another. They just had a good time in each other’s company.

After seeing the main attractions, the group went to a shady lawn area, where they spread a couple of blankets, and enjoyed a picnic lunch the women had each contributed to preparing. As they sat eating, Valda asked Eddie what he had planned for the evening. He told her he didn’t have anything planned, so she suggested they should all go back to her place. Eddie had hoped for an invitation to spend the evening alone with her, but was willing to just be with her and others. On the ride back, Eddie felt Valda wanted to say something more to him, but couldn’t, because one of Mario’s children, a spoiled-little-snot of a daughter, kept interrupting their conversations. Once back at Valda’s apartment, Mario said he had to get his family home, and the radioman chief said he wanted to go back to the ship. This left just four: Valda, Eddie, his good friend Al, and Valerie, the friend of Valda’s, who was visiting from Melbourne.

The group started drinking orange juice and champagne, which Eddie had never drunk before, but found out it was called a Mimosa. It was smooth going down, and he started to get a buzz on. In fact, he loosened up so much, he started to recite his poem, and Al had to shut him up. Valda told him he was cut off from the champagne. Her words were:

“Please stop drinking now, or you won’t be any good to me later.”

Even in his inebriated state, it sounded like a proposition to him, so he sobered up quickly, with the aid of a light dinner. Al and Valerie were getting on well, and since she was visiting, she had use of the spare bedroom, where she took Al, and he saw no more of his buddy that night. This left Valda and Eddie alone in the living room. They sat and quietly talked for a while, then by mutual agreement, they began to kiss. After about ten minutes of light necking, Eddie broached the subject: