Chapter 88

There ought to be a song. I should.

The alphabet soup is long and mean

Their ears are flat and their eyes are keen.

A neck like a bollard and a rump like a stump

The places they get to, I've never seen.

The alphabet soup long and stout

Get a chainsaw, we'll have that out soon.

Take it apart and can't find nothin?

We replace it? "Snort" Go bark at the moon.

Well ... that was awful. A song writer I'm not.

They really did want to take our boat. We're minors not in the company of parent or guardian. What stopped them was the two star admiral in charge of the San Diego Naval District.

The Air Station, the San Diego Naval Training Center, the Repair Depot, the Amphibious Training, the Seal School all came under his jurisdiction.

We were in irons in the back seat of a pair Customs Service cars ... irons ... as in handcuffs ... while the Customs inspectors were busy destroying the interior of the K5. Most of our clothes were out on the docks ... what hadn't been deliberately tossed in the harbor. The guns mounts had been pried from the deck and the guns themselves were destroyed. One man was getting ready to fell the mast so he could look inside the radar globe ... when the Admiral showed up wanting to speak to us.

To say things got a little tense is an understatement.

Now I know what the result of the shit and the fan getting up close and personal looks like. The Admiral traveled with an entourage. Adjutant, secretary, driver and a jeep plumb full of armed mean-assed marines.

The Customs didn't want to stop ... the Admiral had no jurisdiction over them ... these kids just had to be smuggling something and they were by god going to find it if they had to cut this fucking boat up in one inch squares and they could do it, according to the law and their brief. And if they din't find anything ... too damn bad ... it was their right to examine all suspicious vessels and there was no recourse or action that could be taken against them against them.

It was only when one of the no-neck inspectors pushed the Admiral and he fell that we saw the result of fan and cesspool contents mixing.

It was bad.

No ... it was BAD!

Very bad ... bad to the nth degree.

The unconscious Customs agents were in the lockdown ward in the Shore Patrol Brig at the Naval Base Hospital and the Admiral was on the phone to D.C...

Ike was extremely interested and the head of Customs ... a political appointee discovered himself to be dis-appointed. And he was a high ranking member off the Republican Party. The deeper the digging the worse the rot got. We were not the first children insulted by official misconduct but, "BY GOD, They WILL be the LAST while I AM PRESIDENT!" said Ike.

We weren't there for it but:

Our uniforms were replaced, our bedding, the food, the diesel tanks were replaced, an agent had peed in the water tank, cigarettes were ground out on the mahogany decks, countertops and even the toilet seat: They were replaced.

Our self purchased anti-G flight suits were shredded and our helmets cut up. They were the first things replaced.

The crowning destruction, however, was the shredding of our paperwork; passports, licenses, pilot, commercial ship, and drivers. Our birth certificates, our commendations, the ABJECT APOLOGY letter, every single piece of paper with writing on it ... even the Grocery List, was ripped and torn into tiny pieces. I think the reasoning behind that destruction ... If they can't prove who they are, no one will listen.

Our phone book was missing but it was found in the trunk of a third car. I can imagine the holy hell the people who were in our book would have gone through if the book hadn't been found.

We were due in Alameda. The boat was a mess. We were out of uniform and out of uniforms. The Admiral said, "Son, you need to get up to San Francisco. I'll call and let them know what's happened. Don't look so worried. Everything will be fine."

"Sir? How well do you understand Murphy?" I said

"Murphy? Oh ... that Murphy. I think you'd better have some company. Tom?"

A real live four stripe Captain stepped up. We weren't under cover so we snapped to.

"Yes, Sir."

"These two are the Lieutenant Commanders who, while young, are serving at the discretion of the President. This boat, while nominally a United States Vessel of War is their personal property until or unless they cash the check giving ownership to the Navy. The check is somewhere in that pile of garbage ... probably shredded like all the paperwork pertaining to them." The Admiral had done his homework. What we had done in the service since the Russians was easily traced. It was the before that no one could find.

"Lieutenant Commander Grace Adele Austin, may I introduce you to Captain Thomas Theodore Hanks, Captain Hanks ... Lieutenant Commander Austin. Commander Austin ... Captain Hanks."

"Pleased to meet you, Sir. I am distressed that we meet under these conditions," said Grace.

"I fully understand, Commander. I have had similar circumstances. When my ship went down she took everything I owned with her. Grace, is it?"

"Yes, Sir."

They shook hands and Grace braced.

The Admiral turned to me. "Lieutenant Commander David James Austin, I introduce you to Captain Thomas Theodore Hanks, Captain Hanks ... Lieutenant Commander Austin. Commander Austin ... Captain Hanks."