Chapter 16

03:45 Friday, July 5th, 1991
Sonoma Valley Inn
550 W Second St, Sonoma, CA 95476

Sandy woke Friday morning, stiff from sleeping on Ben's arm. With a stifled groan, she reached over to shut the alarm off, but instead switched it to radio mode. The resultant blast of AM radio deejay chatter woke Ben.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sandy watched Ben stretch. Is he everything I could ever want? Ask me today, and I'd say 'yes'. What will I answer in six months? Troubled, Sandy pushed the doubt aside. All I need to do is make sure he wants to come back to me.

Smiling, Sandy stood and stretched languidly, stretching muscles and tissues slightly sore from the previous night's lovemaking. She smiled inwardly again, when Ben's breath caught audibly at the sight.

A few moments later, he joined her in the shower. They began the quick dance they'd learned, having showered together so often in the last few weeks. He slipped past her to reach the soap, she shampooed her hair. There was the occasional fondle as they passed close by one another. Sandy was content.

As she left the shower, Ben said something which puzzled her. "Class B's, hon." Shrugging, she slipped on her panties, and tugged her bra around her middle, then slipped the straps over her shoulders. She waited in front of the TV for a moment, for Ben to come out. "Why?"

Ben shrugged. "I dunno. I get the feeling Kostowe will appreciate it."

Sandy nodded. "Okay." She packed a bag with her swimwear, and a second set of light clothes. She packed warmer clothes for each of them, after considering they could be out at night. Then she dressed in her Class B's.

05:35 Friday, July 5th, 1991
Oakland Yacht Club
1101 Pacific Marina, Alameda CA, 94501

Lenore snored in the truck. Sandy was driving again, with Ben in the middle. Getting up at oh-dark-thirty, when the Army wasn't even asking it of her seemed absurd, yet she did it without complaint this morning. Neither she nor Ben really questioned why they were doing this. Sandy supposed it was for Lenore. And just what is this fascination she has with the Gunny, anyway?

The time passed in silence, Ben riding along with his eyes closed. Sandy sensed he was awake, but they shared the quiet companionably.

Nearing the exit off the 24 freeway, Sandy had Ben navigate with the map, and his voice woke Lenore. They drove onto the marina with ten minutes to spare. Sandy found a parking spot, and as the sunrise strengthened over the hills to the east, the three carried their day bags and the wine down the pier. The air was heavy and cool. This close to the water there was a briny almost-stench which made her think of rotting seaweed.

The Gunny had said they couldn't miss it. Taller than anything on either side, glistening white, and with the US flag flanked by US Navy and Marine Corps flags at the stern, Sandy was sure they'd found the boat.

The three traded glances, then with a deep breath, Ben strode forward. Above them, Gunny Hebert landed on the rear deck by the combination stair/ladder at the stern of the boat. He waved at the three of them, and waited while they approached. As they drew nearer, it was apparent the Gunny wore khakis, with short pants, but no insignia or other accoutrements. Then, as Ben grasped the rail of the ladder, the Gunny leaned over the gunwale, and spoke in a casual, but firm tone.

"Collins. Nice touch on the uniforms, you will absolutely make Kostowe's day. But, if you had any plans to be piped aboard, drop them ... you two are enlisted, and you'd need to have the Medal of Honor before Kostowe would stand for it." He watched Ben shrewdly, then smiled. "Let him see you're here in uniform, but the drawback is you'll have to jump to his orders. Just handle it for the day, and you'll be in like Flynn. Got it?"

Ben nodded. The Gunny turned to Sandy. She considered his words for a moment, before nodding, once. He turned to Lenore, but then immediately snorted, in lieu of asking her to agree. "Miss Collins, you'll have to forgive us military types our little games."

Lenore's eyes flashed. "Well, Gunny. Who knows? Someday, I might be in the military. It seems to suit my favorite people."

The Gunny laughed. "Welcome aboard, all." As Ben stopped at the top of the ladder, he turned to Lenore, who handed up a heavy paper shopping bag. "What's this, Collins?" the Gunny inquired, reaching past Ben and taking the bag from Lenore, then retrieving a bottle from the bag. "Oh, yes. A California Riesling? Oh, mes enfants, Coalstove is going to absolutely love you."

As Ben stepped over the rail, he met Sandy's eyes. Infinitesimally, he shrugged, and Sandy returned it with a bland gaze.

Lenore climbed over the rail next, and as she stepped aboard, she gave a low whistle. After she climbed up, Sandy understood why. Sandy didn't even want to guess how long or how tall the boat was, though she could see there were at least two levels above the deck. All was seemingly white, brass, and teak, and completely spotless.

The Gunny bent to speak to them again, low and urgent. "Listen. Call Chief Kostowe 'Chief' when you want his attention, or off the boat, but never 'Boats' or 'Coalstove', unless he invites you to ... and that'll be a long time coming. Got it?"

Satisfied with the three nods he received, the Gunny straightened, and projected towards the front of the boat, "Chief, we have three to report aboard!"

Clear as a bell in the morning haze hanging over the water, the answer floated back. "Very well, Gunny. Present them, if you please."

The Gunny gave the three a tight smile, and indicated they should stow their gear under a bench. When he saw they were ready, he strode off towards a ladder on the side of the superstructure. Ben followed first, then Sandy, and Lenore. At the top of the ladder, the Gunny held a richly finished wood door open for them. They trooped in to find Chief Kostowe standing erectly at a table with a number of maps on it, making marks with a pencil and straightedge. Charts. They're called 'charts', not maps, Sandy realized.

"Welcome to the Joy Redux," Chief Kostowe said. Turning to Lenore, he smiled. "Ah, the lovely Miss Collins. Welcome aboard. I hope you enjoy our cruise this day, the weather promises to be fair. Do you prefer Red Snapper or Tuna?"

Completely nonplussed, Lenore still rallied enough to smile gamely, and answered confidently, "The first, Chief," and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Turning back to Sandy and Ben, Kostowe began a nearly incomprehensible monologue. "Attention. I expect the junior officers to arrive in uniform. We shall need your assistance in making ready to sail. The Gunny will insure you are prepared. Later, I will require your presence readying the deck for diving operations, and I hope you have brought suitable gear?" He glanced towards the Gunny, in obvious invitation.

Gunny Hebert started, slightly guiltily, to Sandy's amazement, and responded. "Yes Chief, though Collins has a medical condition, recovering from a punctured lung. He cannot dive."

Kostowe took this into consideration, and then nodded decisively. "Collins, you will be our diving watch. Miss Collins, you shall be our chef, then?"

Lenore, completely at sea in the face of the Chief's discourse, simply nodded.

The Gunny spoke up. "Chief, our guests have brought us seven bottles of Riesling. May I store them in the galley?"

Kostowe's snowy-white right eyebrow rose, a gesture which seemed aristocratic on his slim, erect build and given his dignified moustache. "Gunny Hebert, I have told many people over the years that you were not the uncouth wastrel they claimed you to be. I had faith that someday you would reward my patience, and now you have found guests who have obvious breeding and charm. By all means, please, provision the boat's larder." The affection this surprising response was delivered with was obvious to all.

Kostowe turned to the new arrivals. "Now, Specialist, Private. I will be giving orders today. I understand you've been trained to respond with 'Yes, sir.' I would take it as a kindness if you reserved 'Yes, Chief' for affirmative responses, and used 'Aye aye, Chief' as acknowledgement of an order. Don't be afraid to sing out, and if you're asked to do something with which you're unfamiliar, I will understand. I will undertake to make the day as enjoyable as may be for us all – and I thank you for coming with us today."

Sandy and Ben both recognized this as a dismissal, and simultaneously came to attention. Surprising them both, the Gunny did as well, then executed an about-face, and led them off the deck. Bridge, Sandy thought crazily. It's called the bridge.

Once back on the main deck, Lenore looked quizzically back up at the bridge, and then asked the question on the three guests' minds. "You're sure he's retired, Gunny?"

The moment dissolved in laughter.

Sandy hauled the heavy bags up. The bags were unwieldy, and the weight in them shifted oddly. Sandy guessed they held diving gear. The Navy lieutenants showed up in whites with short pants, with all their rank and accoutrements in place. Lieutenant Harding arrived in khakis and with full rank and insignia. Each officer saluted the colors, then the Gunny as, in turn, they asked for permission to board. The Gunny let Sandy and Ben know, in a low voice, there was no need to salute the Lieutenants while on board for the rest of the day.

The Gunny took Ben belowdecks, saying something about the bilge, and Junior Harding waved Sandy to follow, making his way to the fore of the boat. Lenore looked around, shrugged, and followed Sandy. While they moved forward, there came a loud whine from the back of the boat, and the sound of splashing water from somewhere behind them. After two minutes or so, Kostowe bellowed something incomprehensible. A dim response came from belowdecks, and then the first diesel rumbled to life. Just as Junior and Sandy reached a large rope looped over a kind of anvil-shaped thing on the dock, a second diesel roared.

Kostowe yelled something again, and Sandy had the impression it was nautical in nature. Lieutenant Harding had been watching the bridge, and when Kostowe shouted again, Harding reached over the side with a sort of pole. As a small movement of the boat took slack off the rope, he pulled it off the dock. Without getting it wet, he brought it back on board. He then raised his hand in a clear thumbs-up gesture, and a moment or two later, the deck shook as the diesels changed pitch. "Come on, the excitement's finished, here." Lenore and Sandy traded blank looks, then followed him back.

Kostowe piloted the boat out of the marina and into the Bay. Soon enough, they reassembled on the after deck. The Gunny solemnly thanked them for making the boat ready. Lieutenant j.g. Brophy smiled, and said, "Gunny, this has got to be the happiest I have ever seen Kostowe." Harding nodded. Rudolfs snorted, and drew breath to speak.

The Gunny fixed him with a steely eye, and interjected in a dangerous voice, "Gentlemen, as long as you are aboard this boat, you will show respect to her master. This is a pleasure cruise today, but there is no call to be disrespectful."

To Sandy's surprise, Rudolfs blushed, and nodded his head. "Aye aye, Gunny," he said, abashed. Then he added, irreverently, "But it's true!" Hebert relented and gave a ghost of a smile.

What an odd scene. The Navy's different, I guess. Sandy climbed up the ladder to the bridge, where Lenore watched the city of San Francisco roll by on the left.

"Chief, permission to enter the bridge?" Sandy remembered that from some war movie, or perhaps it had been a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode.

Kostowe turned to her, and said something odd. "You have the privilege of the bridge, Specialist. Please enter."

Sandy worked it out: he had given her permission to enter without asking. Oddly pleased, she stood silent for a moment. Then, while speaking to the glass window in front of the wheel and control panel, Kostowe unexpectedly offered, "Would you like to learn to conn my boat, Specialist?"

Answering in the affirmative, "Yes, Chief!", Sandy was told where to stand and how to hold the wheel. Kostowe explained they had set a northerly course to find schools of red snapper. Lenore quietly slipped out while he showed Sandy the various instruments and taught her the language of piloting a naval craft.

Out here, once past the Golden Gate, the air was lighter, with a fresh salty feel to it, feeling somehow cleaner. Lenore walked to the aft rail, where the Gunny stood watching the city grow smaller behind them. She rested, silently, in quiet companionship, waiting the Gunny out. She tried to gauge what he might be looking at, and decided it was something near or in the Presidio. Finally, he snorted, and without so much as a glance in her direction, went belowdecks.

Lenore stood, gripping the rail while she counted to ten, and then for good measure, counted again in Spanish. With an evil chuckle and a wicked little smile, she crossed the boat to the locker where they'd stowed their bags when coming aboard. Descending below to an empty cabin (there were four off the short hallway forward of the dining/galley where the three lieutenants played a card game), she shut the door behind her, slipped off her sundress, slipped on her bikini and a pair of smart-looking and very short khaki shorts. She then found her bottle of sunscreen, and put some on. She'd heard it was warmer offshore than in the Bay – well, she'd find out. Wearing her little smile, and carrying the bottle, she left the cabin, in search of the Gunny.

It was a boat after all, however large it may be, and there could not be all that many places for a grown man to hide.

Ben explored the boat. He saw Sandy in the bridge with Kostowe, going over charts and doing things with instruments and radars. The two seemed intent on what they were doing. Rather than interrupt, Ben returned to the main deck.

Sighing, he sat on the afterdeck, on the bench with the day bags they'd brought with them, listening to the lieutenants play cards in the galley. Lenore came up the stair and after looking around, asked simply, "Where?"

Ben regarded his sister, then shook his head. I'll never understand women. "In front of the bridge, on this deck," he said.

"Thanks. Brother mine, you're a sweetheart, and someday soon you and I need to really talk. But right now..." Ben nodded, staring out at the wake, and she moved off.

A few moments later, Lieutenant Brophy stuck his head up out of the stair to the galley. "Hey, Ranger! You play cards?"

Ben looked up. "I'm not a Ranger, yet. I'll be going to Jump school soon, but it doesn't really mean I'll be a Ranger."

Brophy turned around, said something to the others, then left the stair and approached Ben. "You wouldn't be any good at swimming long distances, would you?" At Ben's headshake 'no', he sighed, in a mock-pious voice, looking upward at the sky, "Another one lost."

He gave Ben a friendly smile, then asked, "Well, then, do you know how to play Hearts?" Ben nodded in the affirmative, and followed him down the stair, where he joined the card game.

The Gunny sat on a deck chair under the front of the bridge, feet up. Lenore sat next to him, and studied him for a moment.

"Gunny." He started at the sound of her voice. "Just be a friend on this boat for a little while, okay?"

Without looking to see if he'd agreed, Lenore continued after a short pause. "Tell me what Korea was like. Not the war, the place."

The Gunny relaxed slightly. "I was there twice ... once in the war, and once for a short while with the fleet, later. That first time, the countryside stank, and the ports were worse. Back in the war, I was a young Lance Corporal, ten feet tall and made of steel..."

An hour later, Chief Kostowe climbed down the ladder. Ben and the others looked up, and Harding gave Ben a smile. Ben was momentarily puzzled, but then realized that Sandy had to be at the helm. Sudden pride made Ben smile back, followed by a twinge of jealousy. Stop it. You've got to live with her being independent. You know she's done it so well in the past. Now is NOT the time to have doubts.

Ben blinked, and noticed both Harding and Kostowe watched him. Suddenly sure they had each read him like a book he put a wry smile on his face and shook his head slightly. Both men returned his smile, and Ben was aware he'd gained a measure in their eyes.

What Kostowe said next, though, perplexed Ben to no end. "You three brought your gear, the Gunny says. Suit up, the Specialist is hunting for our supper." The other three nodded. Kostowe glanced in Ben's direction. "Step onto the deck with me a moment, Private, if you would."

Ben answered with little hesitation. "Aye aye, Chief. Gentlemen, our game?"

Junior Harding nodded. "We'll redeal this hand later, same score."

Ben nodded, and climbed the stair after Kostowe. Finding the Chief at the rear of the boat, he approached.

"Collins, in War Two, we used to call a wound like yours a 'million-dollar wound', one where you weren't seriously disabled long term, but couldn't continue to serve In Theater. It's a lucky wound ... but it's going to keep you from diving. Bottled air and a lung injury are not something I wish to contemplate." Ben nodded, seeing the sense in what he had been told, but disappointed nonetheless. "I have two sets of scuba gear and a short wetsuit that should fit Sparks. I don't have anything else small enough for your sister and the water's cold. I think the Gunny could use a break..." he trailed off, smiling, and then continued. "Regardless, I only have two spearguns. Sparks is reading the fishfinder for us, and we'll probably have divers overboard soon. It would be a help if you would keep watch for the divers while your sister helps me make our noon meal in the galley."

Ben thought of something. "Chief, why did the Gunny say that Lieutenants Brophy and Rudolfs were fond of 'long swims in the dark and blowing things up' when I was introduced to them?"

Kostowe gave Ben a steady look. "Those two gentlemen are Special Warfare, Mister Collins. What used to be called Underwater Demolitions Teams ... Navy frogmen. If you'd never heard of them, I suppose it would sound odd."

Ben nodded, some things made sense to him now. Kostowe was stiff and formal, but to Ben's surprise, he was warm nonetheless. Ben appreciated knowing what was going on. "I'd be happy to keep watch, Chief," he said.

10:35 Friday, July 5th, 1991
Near 38° 02' 23.5"N, 123° 01' 26.5" W
(off Point Reyes, CA)
Pacific Ocean

The Gunny laid the gear out on the deck, and Rudolfs dropped the anchor off the bow when Sandy closed the throttles. Chief Kostowe walked her through setting the anchor and the shutdown of the diesels. Then he had Ben run a set of flags up the mast at the left of the bridge. Sandy recognized what she thought of as the 'Diver Down' flag, red with a diagonal white stripe. She had no idea what the other flag meant, blue and white with a kind of a notch taken out of the free end, though she decided against asking. Already, she felt overfull of information. She giggled a little at the thought of information spilling out her ears, to splash on the deck, run down to the bilges, and eventually be pumped out into the ocean.

Smiling, she went down to change into her one-piece swimsuit and then learn about scuba gear. At least this way if any excess information spilled out of her ears, she'd already be underwater.

Lenore watched from the ladder door as Harding explained the scuba gear to Sandy on the afterdeck. Depending on the breeze, his words floated over the deck to her. " ... can tell a good diving watch by this ring, it only turns one direction, so if you accidentally hit it underwater, you can only reduce the amount of time you think you have. It's easy to get distracted in dark water, and lose track of time..." Lenore tuned it out for a while. She was mildly interested to hear that the divers would get lighter as they breathed out the air in the tanks as bubbles, and would need to control their buoyancy while under water.

She turned to watch the Gunny, as Rudolfs explained the speargun. They were at the far side of the deck, and their words were lost in the breeze. She settled for watching the gestures they made while they discussed the mechanism. Behind them, the hills behind the Marin County coast were green. She supposed they received more rain.

Lenore could not explain the attraction she felt for the Gunny. It was so visceral, a tangible thing arising from the center of her gut. That it wasn't all that sexual a feeling certainly surprised her, though there was more than a little component of that there. She laughed lightly to herself. She was like the Wile E. Coyote character chasing the Roadrunner, in that she had no idea what she'd do with the Gunny if she caught him. Relationships and boys were something that Lenore had avoided since highschool, something she didn't even want to think about. But she still couldn't feel comfortable on the boat without knowing where the Gunny was.

It was puzzling, but not too terribly alarming. Lenore was positive she confused the Gunny. For now, keeping him off balance would do, and her bikini seemed to do that ... he was obvious in his looking anywhere but at her. Rudolfs and Brophy showed a little interest. That was OK by Lenore, it didn't bother her. And Kostowe was such a dear, having a pretty passenger wearing a bikini on his boat was making his whole month. Sandy had shot her a quizzical look when she saw the bikini on Lenore. She gave her a really complicated smile when Sandy realized the Gunny was oh-so-carefully not-looking at Lenore.

Sandy shrugged into the harness with a tank attached. Rudolfs pulled a bucket of seawater up onto the deck. Lenore watched idly as they each performed some mask-washing ritual which involved spitting.

Finally, the men and Sandy stepped onto a platform rigged off the side, and then splashed into the water backwards. A few moments of treading water, and they slipped beneath the waves.

Lenore turned to the galley, and began making tuna salad for sandwiches.

##
Ben sat on the platform over the bridge, the highest point on the boat. It was peaceful, the sun high in the sky, the ocean a sea of shimmering light reflected from a cloudless sky. There was only the sound of the breeze, the small slapping of tiny waves on the hull, and a few moments ago, the sound of Lenore chopping something in the galley.

Chief Kostowe stuck his head over the edge of the platform, obviously standing on the ladder. "What do you think of my new boat, Mister Collins?"

Ben gauged the man for a moment, and then replied seriously. "Chief, I love it. I don't know how the hell I'm ever going to swing it, but I want one someday. If we haven't said it enough yet, thank you for inviting us along."

"I could never afford to keep it if I didn't have help. Buying it was unbelievably difficult ... but I had help. There's a lesson in that ... keep your friends, Mister Collins. I lease this boat to a friend, and it's how I can afford it." Ben nodded, lost in reflection for a moment, thinking of the people he knew at Huachuca, and the people on the boat. He focused on Kostowe again, struck by a sudden thought. The older man nodded at the question in his eye.

"Mister Collins, I would enjoy it very much if the three of you would help me shake this boat down over the next two weeks. I'd like to teach the three of you how to handle this boat. Lieutenant Rudolfs will need to learn as well, he works for that friend who leases this boat. Learning is easier with a group."

While Ben considered this – Jesus, Lieutenant Rudolfs works for the Navy, in Special Warfare, whatever the hell that is, right? He must mean Rudolfs is detailed to someone in the Navy – or Government – who is paying for this boat and expects Rudolfs to be able to sail it. Now what the hell does that mean? – Kostowe waited patiently.