The loss of the casual encounter.

 There was a time not so long ago when we as humans would approach one another.

 Yes, physically approach another person. Whether at work or on the train or out in public. We would actually walk up to them and ask them out. Believe me it's true, we would ask them out on a date! I know, hard to believe right. No need for a "social network" or a computer generated match. All you needed was a set of balls, either literally or figuratively and the ability to speak to another person without stammering or drooling on yourself.

 What happened? Why have we as a species suddenly begun to lose the instinctual drive to find a mate au natural? I blame a great deal of our issues on not only technological advances but on the news media as well.

 The technological side is pretty straightforward. Technology advances, driving us indoors and our socialization skills begin to falter. We don't notice though because we're each in our own little cocoons.

 Days turn into months which turn into years and we begin to crave socialization again.  Unfortunately to allow us out of its grasp would weaken technologies stranglehold on us so instead here comes along a way to socialize without leaving your cocoon.  That can't last long though so technology advances again and gives us the ability to put on a set of headphones and take our self contained cocoon into public without having to interact with anyone else on a personal level. Because of this not only has our ability to socialize romantically begun to falter but so has our ability at one on one interactions in all aspects of life. When you live by nanoseconds in your virtual cocoon every human interaction outside of it becomes a disappointment because they take to long.

 So now as a species we're not only losing the ability to hunt and gather on a nutritional level but on a physical level as well. Need dinner at 2am, order online! Want some new shoes or clothes, order online! Need/want whatever the hot toy is, order online! Want to get laid, go online and pull up some porn either live or recorded and finish up alone in twenty mins without ever having to interact with an actual person.

That's just what technology has done to us and that seems like enough but the final nail in our proverbial coffin I feel comes from the news media. Someone once told me "I don't watch the news because they only show the bad side"

He was right, if you want to hear spooky campfire tales about the bogeyman just turn on the news, read it online or (if you can find one) open a paper. For years now they've used scare tactic reporting to turn us into frightened lambs. We've grown so jaded from the years of shock media influence that any person asking for anything, no matter how sincere, is viewed as a con artist, or thief, or murderous, psychopath, rapist hellbent on deflowering the family dog. We've become so frightened that we all have to be indoors by the time the streetlights come on. Pistol in one hand cell phone in the other with 9-1 dialed and the home invasion alarm set. Women stand at the ready hand on pepper spray set to douse anyone who even so much as says bless you when they sneeze convinced the person has ulterior motives. Any darkened street or alleyway takes an added degree of terror for male and female alike all convinced that there's a roving gang of hooligans hiding behind every dumpster.

Well it's time to shut out the news, turn off your electronics and take a deep breath. Are there people out there wishing to do you harm or take what you have YES. I'm not going to lie to you but are they hiding behind every corner no. Use your common sense, take off your headphones and try smiling at the person across from you on the bus/train/sidewalk wherever. You might get some weird looks at first but overtime this will catch back on too. Smile people the world aint that scary!   

A short poem.

6/8/97

What if I've lost her,
What if she flees,
All because I couldn't control me,
My love I wanted to show,
The love of a true, faithful friend,
Not the love of just any man,
As our bodies grew closer,
My hands moved slower,
Until she pulled back and exclaimed
I'm sorry, we must go
I could have loved her throughout the night,
I'd rather love her throughout life,
I'm sorry I pushed,
I didn't go slow,
Instead I followed my need to show,
the physical side,                                         
Now I feel as if I've lied,
If only I hadn't tried,
To show my physical side,
Now I've sat up all night,
Sat up and cried,
I knew she'd leave me if I lied,
And that's what I did,
When I crossed over and tried,
the physical side.

The castration of masculinity! By Sinatra McBigUns

 






  I’ve spent over 40 years on this revolving death star we call Mother Earth and it wasn’t some deep seated mommy issues that made me chase liquor and women all the way around it, it was a love of the female body and an enjoyment of a good buzz.

  One of the most multifunctional words in the English language may very well be fuck but the word that causes more people to blush is S-E-X! Why is that? Is it some ingrained puritanical nonsense or is it simply a lack of experience that causes people to react?

 I’m not going to tell you how to pick up women, how to make a relationship work or which wine would be the best to drink with baked scrod. I will, however, tell you the secrets to being not only a mans man but also how to be "That Man", not the one she wants to marry, the one she wants to bed before she gets married.

                                                                          

                                                                      
I'll tell you how to survive in those out of the way bars you only dream about going into and what to do when some 375 pound biker chick at the end of the bar with a “Born to raise hell” Tattoo across the front of her neck grabs you around the waist and slurs....

                                                    “Let’s dance sexy.”

 We're also going to discuss what I call the "Amoeba Quandary" or rather the castration of masculinity!

  I blame a good deal of it on our childhoods. Think about it, most of our teachers in the mid to late 70’s were women and men who less than 10 years before had been marching at Woodstock and holding love-ins. I include into this the replacement of the daily western TV program with people like Mr Rogers and Captain Kangaroo.

  They wanted to mold us all into good little nonviolent, unassuming, sexless robots.  Meanwhile all the feminists wanted to emasculate the young men.

    “Don’t draw pictures of boobs on your fourth grade notebook it’s demeaning to the girls in your class.”

    “Be polite with asexual conversations and don’t you dare open a door or pull out a chair.”

    “Hell NO, we won’t shave our legs or armpits and you can fix your own damn dinner!”

 

                                                                                                                                                

   Well I say “KISS MY FUCKING ASS.” Let the boys draw on their notebooks, hell for most of us that and the occasional peek at one of dad’s Playboys was the closest any of us came to an early sexual education. I remember in the fifth grade being the hero of the neighborhood when I found a stack of Hustlers and Penthouses underneath a couple of boards beside the baseball field and then snuck them back to the clubhouse. I continued my legacy the next year by going into the Men’s room at the neighborhood barber shop and sneaking out with the latest issue of Penthouse. 

Here’s a tip ladies, if you don’t want me to open your door, or pull out your chair or call you ma’am then you can buy your own fucking dinner and pay for your own ticket! Also, if the conversation I’m having with my buddies in a bar while drinking is offending you, then take your ass to the other side of the room or join the conversation with a creative counter argument.  Either way, unless your lips are wrapped around my cock I could care less about your opinion.

                                                                          
                                                          
   Somehow we got molded to follow in the footsteps of men like Woody Allen, Bob Newhart and Allan Alda. Quiet unassuming men.  Men who wouldn’t even consider going into a biker bar and most women wouldn’t speak to, let alone sleep with. 

  Would a real man pluck an eyebrow? Only, I think, in an effort to get the piece of shrapnel out or to win a bet.

  Would a real man wear eyeliner or finger nail polish? Only if he woke up with it after a night of endless tequila shots and his friends had also drawn a penis on his forehead.

  Would a real man go in for a facial, manicure and pedicure? Only, if it also involved midgets and a happy ending.

  In other words when you go to do something and you think the perfect person to take with you is your mom, sister or the homely girl from work, STOP, slap the ever living shit out of yourself, go drink a few beers and try to forget your momentary gayness.



                                                        Role Models

We as men have wasted way too much of our lives looking up to spineless amoebas! Our grandfathers modeled themselves after men like Generals George Patton and Chesty Puller. Our fathers after men like Roy Rogers and John Wayne.  It’s time we molded our lives after men we would want beside us in a foxhole or to be lost in a blizzard with. Men who are not only going to carry themselves out of the situation but in all likelihood your sorry worthless ass too.

                                                            
Donald Sutherland---By far the only good version of Capt. Hawkeye Pierce. Not to mention the fact that he was the A-Teams Murdoch long before there was an A-Team.

  

                                                                               

                                                                         
Dennis Hopper—What can be said other than when I die I pray I make it into the diner at the end of the road  with James Dean, Marlon Brando and of course the existential Mr. Hopper for one evening of thick, rare steaks, wedge fries,onion rings, an endless supply of 150 year old Bourbon, Cuban Cigars and a bevy of not so virginal, mute, 18 year old catholic girls in full uniform.

                                                                                                
    Sam Elliott, Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones----Now there’s a western cast for ya. All men I'd be proud to take a punch from. Hell lets resurrect John Wayne and somebody shoot Kevin Costner so he can’t audition and we’ve got ourselves a movie.

 Well that's about enough of this crap for one day. I wont be writing this column often it belongs to my buddy D.S. Duke but he's still unconscious thanks to the Tijuana shipment that came in yesterday, not to mention the bottle of Drano I caught him snorting off the back of the cat at 5am. But until next time wash that shit off your face and out of your hair. Loosen those pants so you don't look like you're wearing tights. Then put your thumb in your mouth and blow real hard on it maybe you'll get one of em to drop back down. Now I'm gonna go hunt myself down something that used to be breathing and eat it and then wash it down with something that was slow aged in a wood cask. Remember there's no reason to be ashamed of having balls only for not using them!   

A little something I wrote.

Today's blog is a short story I've written enjoy. (Don't think this means you don't have to work out today!!)

Myers and Dr Pepper by D.S. Duke

LIFE PART I

            



  Joseph Hawkins is my name most people just call me Hawk unless they work for me in which case they call me Petty Officer Hawkins. I had been in the Navy for six years at this time most of it uneventful most of it pretty Damn boring actually really the only thing exciting that had happened was when I enlisted they gave me a choice of Boot camp locations at the time the Navy had three San Diego (otherwise known as Sand Dog), Great Lakes (You guessed it Great Mistakes) or Pensacola (Women’s World where all of the female recruits went) well I was born and raised in Texas eleventh generation Texan to be exact named for my Multi Great Uncle Joseph M Hawkins who was born in 1799 in Ireland traveled the ocean landed in Louisiana met a man named Sam Houston who would become President of Texas and worked for him as an express rider until that fateful day in March in 1836 when he and almost two hundred others died at a little place known as Mission San Antonio de Valero course we just call it The Alamo.

   Well being from Texas and never having been north I decided that the weather on the Great Lakes couldn’t be all that bad hell it was almost the end of January already around my area the wildflowers were starting to spring up. I came off the plane in blue jeans, t-shirt, cowboy boots and a leather jacket you know the old expression Colder than a witch’s tit, not even close   I didn’t know that your nuts could crawl that far up inside of you I don’t think mine dropped back down for six months. It was a pretty easy time as soon as I realized that as long as I kept my mouth shut and slept on top of the covers so I didn’t have to try and make my rack in the mornings everything was cool.  Know almost six years later I’m stationed on the little south Pacific island of Guam which is where we pick up my story…………. ……….As the sun beat down on my face I slowly began to awake. What a beautiful morning I thought as I stared up at the palm tree above. Rising up in the back of the truck I began to survey the beach around me. Bodies lie scattered about like some bizarre war movie. Everyone had simply fallen, wherever the parties had ended as the night gave way to the morning.
 There was no movement on the beach whatsoever just a lone bird and a single ship on the horizon. As I took in the scene around me one thought continued to play through my mind, that ship looks really familiar. Within moments my mind made the connection and I began to scream.
   ALBERT WAKE UP, THERE GOES THE SHIP!!!!!!! I yelled as I jumped out of the back of the truck and began to run down the beach. So many questions were running through my head that I felt lost.
              
How had we gotten to the beach?
Who had driven?
What were we going to do about missing ships movement?
  The night before we had started out drinking at the only country bar on Guam. When we had shown up the DJ for the night had just called off and being the first ones through the door that the bartender recognized we got picked to substitute with our tab being taken care of as payment. That much I remembered. It was the latter part of the evening after we had driven up a rather sizable tab that I was having trouble with.
   Why had we come to the beach on the air force base instead of our own? Granted it was the prettiest section of beach on the entire Island and they did have all-day Mongolian BBQ at a little lean to shack every Sat. and Sun.
  Not to mention every single and not so single female on the island came there to party starting Friday night and going through Sunday night. I had been able to get out of bachelors quarters and live in some real nice base houses when the right ships where underway and the right newly single (for the next 4 weeks to six months) Navy wife showed up. 
  All that would have to wait though for now the only thing to do was return to base and face the music.
  So when the ship came back a few days later that's just what we did.

  Compared to being underway for six months, getting confined onboard for two weeks should have seemed like a short period of time. Instead it seemed like forever since we could smell the women, Rum and freedom right at the end of the gangway. Finally on the fifteenth morning of confinement, the loud speaker hissed with the announcement, "Captains mass will be held at 0900 this morning, all confines report to the master at arms office by 0800 this morning." Standing in line beside Albert I began to realize, "We just might be going to the brig today". When Albert looked over and began to laugh I could only stammer a "WHAT."   “You’re pale as a ghost,” Albert said, "I'll bet you twenty bucks we'll be drinking a cold beer tonight.” "No way" I thought.
  We were going in front of the old man and there was no way he was going to let our little stunt go unpunished. Had we of come back as soon as we realized the ship was gone we would have been fine but the two days we spent drinking, eating, screwing, and other assorted general debauchery had not only made us forget our responsibilities but word of it had reached the Captains ear in full detail including the name of the Chief Warrant Officers wife I had taken home for a few hours while her husband had Officer of the day duty on Saturday.   Albert proved me wrong though. I had never counted on him understanding but Albert had. See the one thing I had forgotten was that the skipper was a home town boy I was from Austin in the great state of Texas and Albert was from Manor which is so close to Austin you can spit and reach Manor before it hits the ground and the captain was from Elgin right on the other side of Manor thereby making him the second best thing to come out of that area right behind the sausage at the South Side Meat Market. That night the beers were on me. Including one for the Captain who showed up at the base club for a few minutes to make sure we weren’t going completely nuts and to privately inform me that from this moment forward CWO’S wives where off limits no matter how good there boob job looked.   After that we kept our noses clean. That is until the rumor started.

   Rumors about a ships movement come on an almost daily basis and most go away just as quickly. Once in a while though one will come along that has you begging that it's true. That was how the Australia craze started. A small rumor that we were going began, then denial from the captain. That was always a good sign. When the skipper tried to quiet a rumor it just might be true. Everyone on board the ship held their breath for the next step. If it were true then we would start seeing new duty assignments very soon. The rumor started on a Tuesday and by Friday three quarters of the crew were mopping, polishing or painting some part of that ship.

   The next Monday the orders were officially announced. Since we were the last active duty ship from the Battle of the Coral Sea we were to set sail from Guam and be in Sydney in time for the fiftieth anniversary of the Coral Sea battle. Great, just what I needed, another two weeks of waiting. But the day finally came. At 0830 the gangway was removed and we began to set sail for the land down under. Ahead of me lay Australia and unknown adventure.
But all I could think about was crossing the equator. From the moment we had received our orders the rumors about what we could expect upon crossing began.
   From then on, it was no longer the equator but "THE LINE". Anyone not having crossed before was a pollywog. Anyone who had crossed was a shellback.

   The days grew much longer while we were underway. It seemed as though every minute was an hour and every hour was a day.  The days were being filled with meaningless task and drill after drill. The nights on the other hand had much to offer. There was the continuous spades or domino games going on just make sure to bring plenty of cash. If we needed a drink then we would just go to the lower compartments and follow the singing. Then there was always the weight room for those muscle head types. Hell we even made friends with the AV nerd onboard who broadcast all the closed circuit movies after working hours. We would sneak him up a beer or a rum and he would let each of us be alone in there for fifteen minutes with his extra TV, VCR and Porn collection that is until the night Albert got carried away and hit the wrong switch while finishing and broadcast the movie out to the entire ship.  Usually though my friends and I preferred something a little different. The exterior lights of the ship were turned out at night so we would go all the way up to the Helo deck or in-between the stacks where it was absolutely dark. When we would lie on the deck in the middle of the south pacific and look up it was like looking into a window of space. The absence of manmade light was so great that the illusion directly in front of us was one of millions upon millions of stars. There was no need for a telescope when you where laying there they where so powerful it seemed like you could reach up and touch them even in Texas I had never seen stars so bright.  There is no experience quite like lying on the deck; smoking a left handed rolled cigarette and watching the stars fall.

  After five days out the time was drawing near. The rumors floating around were that we would cross the line at midnight that night. I finally confirmed it around five in the afternoon and the planning was on. Working in supplies my access to needed materials was better than the average sailors so I took advantage of just that. It was well known that all pollywogs would be expected to crawl on their hands and knees from midnight until around four the next afternoon at which time we would receive our shellbacks from KING NEPTUNE. If we were deemed worthy that is. My first order of business was to eat. I wanted to get full, padded, and in my rack early. It was going to be a long night. After stuffing myself, I proceeded to round up foam and heavy-duty tape. I wrapped my legs with foam from three inches above to three inches below the knee until it was about two inches thick and then used a whole roll of tape on each leg. Then I padded my palms with a couple of inches of foam and taped up my hands so that just my fingers stuck out. After that all that was left for me to do was get some sleep.

  The shellbacks outnumbered the pollywogs by at least two to one if not more. Each pollywog was assigned to a shellback, although, that was unknown to us until midnight. Right at midnight all hell broke loose. Every light in the ship was turned on and all the alarms were sounded. Standing beside the bunk of each one of us was our assigned shellback holding a collar and leash.  We were dragged out of our bunks, officers and enlisted alike, put into collars and made to begin our crawl to Neptune.

   The shellbacks had begun rounding up supplies for this little ordeal before we left Guam. There's no telling how many feet of fire hose was used, but I do know that each and every shellback had a four-foot section. One foot made up the handle, which was just a bunch of tape wound tight. The other three feet were used for turning us pollywogs into shellbacks. There were other things stored up but we'll get to each of them in time.

   Once we were collared, we were dragged into the hallway and lined up for inspection. Not a single one of us passed. As we knelt there on the floor all of the old grudges were aired out. Whenever a shellback came across one of us that he disliked we were pulled out of line and the shellback administered however many whacks with the fire hose he saw fit. These are not children either; there was some very serious muscle put behind those whacks. There was one other option though and that was to receive a red tag. A red tag was used to indicate a piece of equipment was broken. To get one meant that you had been broken. You were then sent to the chaplain's office to wait out the festivities. There’s one other thing about a red tag. Not only were you broken but from then on you were also an outcast. Not strong enough to sail with the real men. After the first couple of hours most of the grudges were worked out. A few people were sent to the chaplain and the crawl was continued.

   The decks of a Navy ship while flat are also covered with a substance known as nonskid. It's like crawling on your garage floor after covering it with the roughest sandpaper possible. After the inspection was over we were all led down to the lowest bowels of the ship to begin our crawl from darkness to daylight. The whole way down was lined with shellbacks. It was easy most of the way down.
  There were a few, who afraid they wouldn't get to whack us on the way up took some shots. But for the most part they knew that the majority of us would be on the return trip. Once in the depths of the ship our crawl was begun with a berating and whacks from an old master chief. Then we began to crawl through the engine compartment and let those night crawlers that keep the engines going take their turns at beating our Asses. We lost more to red tags in the engine room than the entire rest of the day. Besides the oil and fuel that was spilled all over we were dealing with some extremely hostile individuals who rarely saw a shower let alone daylight. That was the worst place to be if you didn't have the right padding and quite a few didn't. Once we came through there, it became a slow crawl upward. Going through passageway after passageway lined with shellbacks.
 
   Occasionally one of us would be pulled out of the line and into some office for individual counseling. It didn't matter where in the line we were at. "The longer it was dragged out the better", was the shellback motto. I came out of the engine compartment into the ships store area. After working my way through three passageways, I found myself being pulled into the S-2 office for some individual counseling from my brothers in supply. After an hour in the office being cursed like a dog and having to do stupid human tricks while being beaten, I was finally led out and through the next passageway. As we came out into the mess area I realized we had arrived just in time for pollywog calisthenics. There is nothing quite like having to do pushups and sit ups (especially when your body looks like your permanently sitting on the toilet from all of the padding and tape) while being whipped with fire hose. After the exercise hour was over we were led up the stairwell and the crawl continued on.

   The next level up was the chiefs' quarters and mess area. These were the lifers who had already been in the navy for over ten years. Some of these assholes had links of fire hose that had already been through two or three crossings. Out of all the shellbacks, these were the sadistic ones. They each had crossed at least two times and had been planning the longest. Only the red after dark lights were on in the mess area. One of them had brought the smoke machine from the fire trainer and you could barely breathe. Music was blaring from speakers some weird ritualistic type noise while a strobe light blasted.  The chiefs were in all black with gas masks on. As we crawled through the mess area amongst a maze of overturned tables, screaming chiefs and assorted food parts, fear began to set in. Not counting the way we had come in, the only way out was through the chiefs living quarters.
 I had an idea that there wasn't going to be anything in there I would like. As we neared the entrance I noticed the line building up. They were only letting in four at a time. Our turn came up and we went in with dread in our heart. Upon entering, the hatch was slammed shut and an eerie silence filled the area. As soon as the hatch was secure the regular lights came on. Looking around I realized we were surrounded by chiefs. "Stand", the oldest screamed. "You're at the halfway mark. This is your chance to stretch. You each have one minute to stand and walk to that rear hatch, enjoy". I hadn't realized just how stiff and numb my body had become until I tried to stand. It was soon obvious to each of us that the chiefs were having more fun watching us try to walk. We all looked like we were sitting in invisible chairs with our arms dangling by our sides.

   Stumbling out of the hatch blinded by that first glare of light, I found myself being pushed back to the ground. "Pollywogs don't stand they crawl." I heard some asshole screaming. My teeth rattled in my head as my knees hit the ground. "Shit" was all I could mutter. At least the sea air felt good on the lungs after all that smoke. The shellbacks began to lead us towards the tail of the ship. They were lined the entire way and each took a whack our two as we crawled by. Getting to the tail I was amused to find (sitting in my favorite afternoon smoking spot) the fattest guy onboard. He sat there clothed in a giant baby diaper made out of a sheet. Standing beside him was a corpsman dressed like a nurse and holding a giant jar of green olives. Fat-asses entire belly was smeared with Mayo and there was an olive sticking half in and half out of his belly button. When each of us approached we were told to remove the olive with our teeth. As we leaned forward our faces were shoved into fat-asses belly.  Rounding the corner after receiving my face of Mayo and my olive I came face to face with another steady stream of shellbacks with fire hoses. We made our way forward until we came to the ladder well where another line formed. This time they were only letting up one shellback and one wog at a time.  When it came my turn it definitely wasn't what I expected.

    At the top of the ladder was a box in the shape of an old west coffin. It stood about four feet deep and was about seven feet long. Looking inside there was about two feet of greenish brown fluid that I hoped was water. The mess areas must have been saving food scraps for a month. There were things floating in there that I hadn't seen for three weeks. Crawling into the coffin I felt a chill envelope me for a brief moment. Then the lid was closed. Was it thirty seconds or thirty minutes? Who knows?
 Judging from the time in line, I would say four to five minutes. It was amazing how quickly the darkness engulfed you with a sudden cold shudder of fear and then total and complete silence. Just the thud in your chest and the stench as you lie there hoping nothing else in the box had a heartbeat.

   Coming out of the box I felt shaken and a bit disoriented. Trying to regain my senses I was mildly aware of being led to the next obstacle. Before me lay the opening to around thirty feet of exhaust tubing made out of gray canvas, and only a few feet in diameter, it was used to vent the lower areas of the ship to fresh air. It worked wonders whenever someone was painting the lower compartments. The problem with crawling through it though was that it was like sliding through a giant sausage casing. Not to mention the whole inside had been smeared with old food. On top of all that, you were expected to keep your head down and your ass up thereby making it much easier for the shellbacks lining the outside to take whacks at you. By the end of it, you not only felt like you were coming out of a sausage, you looked like it.

    Slipping out of the tube I began to crawl towards the mid ship deck. This was the largest outside area other than the helo-deck. There were two groups of wogs out here. One group was lined up like rowers in a giant canoe. The rest of us were told to crawl in a large circle. While the wog exercises started the shellbacks stretched fire hose out and began to spray us down. Any wogs protesting the spray or hesitating in their exercises were pulled out and dealt with in typical shellback fashion. Of course according to the shellbacks at one point or another we all hesitated. After going round and round for what seemed an eternity the time had come to move on.

   Leaving the mid ship deck we headed for the helo area. The helo shop and deck looked like a six-car garage with a flat roof. There were even garage doors on two sides of it. Inside the shop there was a gauntlet of shellbacks stretching out the other end and up the walkway. This was it the final run and last obstacle before seeing the king. We were allowed into the gauntlet one at a time and ordered to stay at least ten feet away from the wog in front of us, and at no time were we to try to stand or run. It was a wall of shellbacks on each side of us. There was just enough space between for them to avoid hitting each other. The sound was like simultaneous fireworks on the fourth of July. I was crawling almost flat on my belly by the time I came to the end. Once again I was ordered to stand. There in front of me stood a five-foot deep above ground swimming pool.
 "Where the hell on Guam did they find this." was all I could think. Standing between the pool and I was an old shellback "Get in the pool and when you come out listen for the kings question." As I climbed in I realized it was about three feet deep with the same crap that was in the coffin. "Submerge and don't come out till you reach the other side." the old fart yelled over. As I began to lower into the crap I saw the wog on the other end yelling, "Pollywog," and the King screaming, "Wrong back through the gauntlet." Once under and crawling all I could think about was that scene. All day long whenever one of us was asked, "What are you?"  Our required response was "A pollywog." Anytime someone answered wrong they were dealt with. It didn't take long to get that routine down. Now what though? Why had the king ordered that guy back through the gauntlet? If pollywog wasn't the answer there was only one other possibility. I finally bumped into the wrong side and started peeking out making my way to the exit.   As I came out and began to climb over the side the king screamed at me, "What are you?" "Here goes nothing," I thought as I screamed, "Shellback!" "Congratulations," Exclaimed the king. "You pass, exit the pool and go take a shower."  As I stumbled away from the pool trying my best to stand upright and look like I didn't hurt, one thought crossed my mind, "I'm through with the Navy." At the time I never realized how true that was.



















                                                  2

    The next day as the equator slipped into our wake, the former wogs exacted their revenge. The shellbacks had clean up duty. The newbie’s were staked out on the top deck with charged fire hoses and stolen crates of eggs and were bombarding everyone below. Meanwhile, I stood in the background wondering just where the future was getting ready to carry me. I decided right then, there were worse places in the world to go AWOL than Australia, so why not. My grandmother had gone to Australia for the summer when I was fourteen and had filled me with stories of the places and people. I later learned that when my mother had told my grandma that my ship was going to Australia she had stated “He will not come back if he makes it down under” The time to plan was now. We would be in Sydney in about a week or so. The in port duty roster had been posted shortly after we left Guam. I had two days duty in each port, so the first thing to do was to get rid of those.

   Finding someone to cover your duty was easier than most would think. All a person needed to know was what price to pay. Four shifts meant four guys to barter with. The first shift cost me seventy-five bucks, the second a sworn statement. I had to promise I would wash Petty officer Johnson's car seven times while in homeport. I had no intention of upholding that one.   Three and four came a bit cheaper. I got rid of them on a package deal for a hundred bucks. With that taken care of the next step wouldn't come until we were in port. For now, all there was to do was act normal and wait (Yeah Right). I wandered around the ship during the day neglecting every job I was told to do. Each job got done just at a much slower pace. No one said anything about my work habits. Although, by the time we pulled into port, I had the feeling that if it had been much longer, I would have be in some shit.

   We were lined up along the railings in our dress uniforms, gliding along as the tugs moved us into port. I stood there, taking in the beauty of Sydney harbor, the Opera House and the horizon. My plan rolled over and over in my mind. I would spend my week in Sydney trying to get to know people rather than seeing the sights. That way, by the time I was in Brisbane, I would have a place to stay already set up. The only thing keeping me from leaving before then was the fact that everyone had to be aboard for the trip to Brisbane. If I left early that would give them the whole week in Brisbane to start looking for me. But, if I could ride it out to Brisbane, they'd be on their way to Guam before anyone noticed I was missing and a week's head start is always a plus. The only thing to do for now was to meet people. The ship had been tied up along a pier at the bottom of a hill and as soon as the liberty bell was rung, off the ship I went. Leaving the base I started up the hill.
    I decided to end my naval career on a high note so I headed over to the anniversary celebration and watched from the background then followed the crowd to the bar. It was actually a nice bar with indoor and outdoor tables and big goblets of beer the Aussie army band was there playing all kinds of songs and everyone was getting piss drunk then something happened that made me decide this was my kind of country coming down the road in front of the bar was a tour bus I guess the driver spied all the guys and gals in uniform and the army band and thought it would make some great pictures or being he was an Aussie he knew what we were celebrating and just had a malicious streak in him either way he stops right in front of the bar and you can hear him inside telling the tourist to look to there left and all of a sudden about a hundred Japanese pop up in the windows with there cameras.  Well let me tell you it was like throwing a baby into a pack of dingo’s all you could hear was beer mugs breaking and cussing as every one of the Aussie’s and more than just a few of the Americans surrounded the bus screaming and yelling and rocking it back and forth. They ended up having to call the cops out who unlike in the states had the soldiers clear the way and then told them all to get back to the bar and continue drinking. This is my kind of country I thought as I paid my tab and headed out I had heard of another place down the road and wanted to see what it was like.
   Rounding a curve near the top of the hill I came face to face with the KINGSCROSS area. Four blocks long and loaded with enough bars, strip clubs, hotels, tattoo parlors, brothels and assorted sex shops to fill a twelve-block area just a giant mass of neon and noise. Standing there on the sidewalk it suddenly occurred to me that I had been at sea for a while so I declared "I will meet people tomorrow." and off I headed to the nearest bar.
                                      








                                                     3
   Waking the next afternoon in my bunk on board, I had a very blank memory of just how the hell I had gotten there. My eyes were on fire; my mouth tasted like it was lined with fur and worst my entire lower left arm throbbed worse than my head. Looking down I could only laugh. There I saw a large white paper towel taped to my forearm. Peeling back the tape I hesitated, took a breath, and pulled off the towel. Staring up at me was a beautiful black ink portrait of an Indian Chief. I had no fucking idea where it had come from, but at least it looked good. Being able to sleep in at all, let alone until early afternoon, is such a rarity that you make the most of it. I took my time getting out of my bunk simply lying there for a while listening to the thump in my head. Finally deciding it was time to get rid of the fur in my mouth I rolled out of my bunk and started for the shower.  The hallways and showers were deserted. The only people aboard were on duty. It was like being on a ghost ship. It was so quiet. Walking down the hallway I stopped. The silence was deafening. I never realized until that moment just how noisy the ship was when everyone was aboard.

   The moment we had pulled into port the message board had begun to fill up with offers from people wanting to guide sailors around town or have them over for dinner. This was not unusual in places like Australia I learned. Staring at the board for a while I began to realize that these were not the kind of people willing to harbor an AWOL American, quite a few had very religious overtones, not a trait I was looking for. The ones I was looking for would have to be special. Leaving base I headed around the hill on the lower road avoiding KINGSCROSS altogether. Where could I find them? Heading towards the famous Sydney Opera house it occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to find them. This was going to be a test in fate and my faith in it. I would have to leave in Brisbane regardless of how this week went. With that thought in mind I began to feel a new sense of release, as if nothing mattered, it was all cool. I spent most of the day wandering around the opera house and its gardens. I highly recommend the open-air bat tree, if you make it to Australia, standing under the tree and looking up at all of those bats is just incredible. I must have spent an hour under there alone. As the day gave way to dusk I began to stroll back. When I felt the sidewalk begin to rise I made my way across the street and over a couple of blocks putting my path on a more direct line towards KINGSCROSS. "Tomorrow I will remember the night." I vowed to myself and increased my stride onward.   

   Wandering along after spending some time at the "Doctors Office", a trend bar were all the waitress's dress like nurses and pour drinks down your throat with syringes. It suddenly dawned on me this would be the place. The heart of the decadence zone would defiantly house the people I would need for this excursion. They would have to be drifters in there own right. Not worried about the consequences. They definitely wouldn't be in any trend bar. I needed something a little darker and waitresses with a little more attitude. Making my way through the crowd I began to look and listen for just the right place.


                  
                


























                                                      4
    At first it looked like they were all going to be trend bars with too much noise and too much glitz. Those places were fine when it was a quick drunk and quicker women you were looking for but no self-respecting outlaw would be in any of those places, at least not one I would trust. What I needed was a good old-fashioned roadhouse. The kind of place were there's a little blood mixed into the sawdust on the floor and you can belly up to the bar, order a beer and end up becoming either best friends or mortal enemies with the guy sitting next to you. As I contemplated these facts I suddenly noticed the alley. I must have walked past it two our three times without noticing the sign. About halfway up the wall was this placard and on it were four of the best words I had read in quite awhile "HANKS HIDEAWAY, BIKERS WELCOME." and underneath an arrow pointing down the alley. Stepping off the sidewalk into the alley I leaned against the wall opposite the sign and lit a cigarette. Staring up at it I reminded myself to remain calm it could still turn out to be a trend bar. The alley turned out to be nothing more than a cut through to a back street behind the bars. Emerging from between the buildings I slipped into a completely different scene. The street was almost completely deserted and compared to the main drag kind of dark. There was a major difference though; over here I could hear the rumble of an idling hog.

  Across the street and one building down was another alleyway. Strolling towards it I noticed another sign halfway up the building with an arrow and one word “HANKS". "These signs weren't put up for everyone to see." I thought to myself and continued on down the alley. As I made my way along I suddenly jumped, as the night was ripped apart by the roar of a Harley engine being gunned into life.  Further down the alley the darkness was split open by a headlamp beam as a rider tore out of an unseen lot and down the alley. "That has got to be the place" I thought, "This is too much karma at work for it not to be." Stopping in the shadows at the edge of the lot I took in the scene before me. An old single story wood building with a full front porch and a line of Hogs out front. Listening to the rumble pouring out of Hanks I could make out a Lynyrd Skynyrd tune mixed amongst the rest of the noise. At that moment one thought occurred to me, "This might not be the night I meet them but this will defiantly be the place I'll meet them." Heading across the lot I took a couple of slow deep breaths and tried to relax it was time to stop worrying and let fate do its job.

   Making it past the few people standing around and onto the porch without incident I took one more breath and reached for the door. Stepping inside I looked around at the exact same bar I had been in a thousand times in about a hundred different places. The only difference in each of them was the location of the pool tables and which type of bartender you'd get. There’s only two types for these bars either a bull nosed hard ass that thinks he's king or a guy that’s everyone’s friend, luckily this one turned out to be the latter. Otherwise it was the same mixture of bikers and blue collar stiffs as in every other one.  My favorite bar seat has always been the far corner with my back against the wall watching the show go on around me. Settling down in my favorite seat I was soon greeted by the bartender. "G'day, what'll it be, mate?"

   "Rum on the rocks and a glass of coke" I mumbled still on island time as I began to think to myself. "The worst thing the navy could have done was station me on an island in the south pacific. It was like giving a guy with narcolepsy a lazy-boy recliner for an office chair. There was no way in the world I could be expected to work when 360 days of the year it was clear and sunny.  What I could be expected to do was drink lots of rum. Or better yet spend lots and lots and lots and lots of time in the sun on the beach naked but for a little pair of shorts drinking lots of rum. It came as no real surprise to me when the idea to go AWOL dawned on me. It came more as a realization inside of "I WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU WERE GOING TO GET TO THAT." The itch to go had been eating away at the back of my brain since Albert and I got busted and I realized that I could spend a lot more time on the beach if I didn't have to go to the ship everyday. Big problem though Guam isn't that big. Besides if you’re going to hide out on a beach why not make it the gold coast." About that time I realized the bartender had been standing in front of me as I mumbled to myself. "You all right friend?" he asked "Yeah" I said, "just thinking."   "Oh, yeah I talk to myself some times to." He laughed and off he wandered.

  As the first rum and coke turned into the sixth and the place started to empty I decided it was time to call it a night. "Come back tomorrow night we've got live music."  The bartender said as I paid my tab making my way towards the door my eyes met those of a very attractive red head sitting at the end of the bar. Suddenly I found myself changing directions in mid stride our eyes never leaving one another. Buy you a drink? I asked "Sure,” she said as she hollered "Rum and coke" at the bartender I thought to myself "Ahhhh a woman after my own heart".

  When you’re looking for a hiding spot you don't necessarily want to fall in bed with each woman as a one nightstand. First you want to recon their residence for unfriendly roommates that may be uncaring towards your plight. Therefore with the info about the live music the next night I talked up miss redhead and made a date to meet her at her place the next afternoon for dinner and the show.
 The next morning I awoke in a much better condition than the day before with nothing to do for a few hours I decided to make a general nuisance of myself and have a little fun without getting into to much trouble. There was an old sailor who lived in the berthing area across from mine he was an incorrigible little prick who had had some kind of an accident years before and only screamed out of one side of his mouth while drooling on himself and showering you in spit. He was in charge of the scully supplies for the mess area everyone aboard had to do a rotation working for the mess chief either cooking, serving, office or as had been my bad luck working in the scully cleaning every pot, pan and dish that came through, it wouldn’t have been so bad except every time you needed a new scrub brush or cleaning supplies or even rubber gloves you had to deal with this douche bag. We had gotten back at him a few months prior there had been an all hands inspection by the Captain and the chief was on pins about it he wanted everyone in there dress uniforms with fresh haircuts and spit shined boots even if you worked scully which usually exempted you from having to have your boots shined since they were always wet but not this time so the night before everyone’s in their berthing areas cleaning and ironing and this prick comes in right at eight o’clock and starts screaming at everyone to hold the noise down and put away there shit cause he’s going to bed. Well let me tell you that was the straw that broke the camels back. I decided right then and there that this dickweed needed some shipboard discipline. So I waited until Albert showed up and told him my plan he of course was immediately in. I set the alarm on my watch and waited when my alarm went off at three thirty I jumped up grabbed Albert and we headed for assholes bunk his was the middle bunk. The middle and bottom bunks we called coffins. Imagine a set of bunk beds with three bunks instead of two now imagine the middle and bottom ones have walls on three sides and curtains on the fourth side so once you climb in and close the curtains it’s like being in a coffin. Well douche bags was the middle one and as always his curtains were closed so with Albert’s help and two rows of government issued Greenie Meanie Duck Tape we proceeded to enclose the fourth wall of his coffin we started at the top stretching strip after strip from one end to the other.
 Once we had finished that we began to go up and down one strip after the next until we had a solid wall then as a last precautionary thought we poked a couple of air holes in it just so we didn’t screw up and kill him. The next morning everyone’s standing at attention while the chief is making his rounds when suddenly he realizes that petty officer suck up is missing so he begins to ask around if anyone’s seen him no chief was all anyone said. A few moments later the Captain shows up and the whole room goes silent as everyone snaps to attention including the chief forgetting that his pet ass kisser is missing. Suddenly, as the Captain is walking the ranks from deep within some unknown void you can just barely hear “HELP GET ME OUT OF HERE” that’s when I almost lost it. I stood there trying not only to refrain from laughing out loud and completely incriminating myself but to refrain from either looking at Albert or wetting myself both of which were becoming harder and harder to do the more he screamed. Finally the inspection was over as the Capt left in stormed Douche Bag “SOMEBODY TAPED ME IN MY RACK” he screamed at that moment the entire division including the chief lost it. It turns out everyone including the chief had heard him screaming and probably the Captain to but no one had said anything during the inspection they all just wanted the inspection to be over. I don’t know if he ever knew who did it but I know the chief did because later that night as Albert and I sat in the NCO club drinking a beer the waitress wandered over with a pitcher of Newcastle sat it down and handed Albert a note. As I poured Albert in the middle of reading it knocked his glass over trying not to fall out of his chair. As he waved the waitress down and asked her for another glass I picked up the note all it said was “You owe the department two rolls of duct tape. Enjoy, Chief” Well enough time had passed and I was just board enough to have a little fun with this douche bag so off to his berthing area I went. Then it hit me as I stopped dead in my tracks a thought occurred to me “why be hasty why not wait for this to be my final great act?”  So I wandered off to the shower to start getting ready for my date instead. That night was great I stopped and had a couple of drinks then met her at her house a short train ride outside the city in a little suburb called Pendle Hill living in a Spanish style house with four bedrooms the terracotta roof and surrounding wall with a pool in the back and only two roommates both of whom looked like they had fallen straight through a time warp from 1969. As I walked in Bridget the other red head was sitting on the couch leaning over taking a hit from a four foot water bong while watching “The Young Ones” She glanced over just long enough to smile give a little courtesy wave and go back to packing another bowl Lorie the girl from the night before was standing there with a towel wrapped around her head “Have a seat I’ll be ready in a little while” So I looked around trying to decide what would be the diplomatic seat to take when Bridget looked up smiled and said “come sit over here mate want a hit?” Hell yeah I thought I had smoked a bit in High school but hadn’t really had much opportunity since I joined up but hell how harsh could their weed be the way she was clearing the thing. As I sat down she handed over the four footer and a lighter I sat down next to her put flame to bowl filled the chamber full of smoke and pulled the bowl sucking in all the smoke at the same time. As soon as I had cleared the tube I knew I had fucked up no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t hold it in I started to choke then cough and gag all at the same time my ears where ringing my face was beet red and I couldn’t quit coughing. Bridget on the other hand was rolling with laughter. “You didn’t warn him did you?” Lorie hollered at Bridget as she came walking around the corner. Nope was all that Bridget said Lorie looked at me smiling and said “I am sorry my roommate likes to have fun with new visitors she didn’t bother to tell you she cuts her weed with tobacco to make it last longer you might want to try smaller hits till you get used to it.” No problem I stammered as I wiped the drool off my face shall we go out or just order pizza and Marlboros I asked they both began to laugh. “Actually that sounds good how about we go pick up so we can stop at the package store and get some beers.” Lorie suggested 
 
  The rest of the week continued along the same lines with me staying in the spare room at there house the night before my ship was set to sail to Brisbane we had a six course dinner and as we enjoyed desert the question was finally posed by neither Lorie or Bridget but there roommate Thomas who I had only finally met the night before.  Apparently after I had crashed the three of them had sat up and discussed my plight and come to the conclusion that I would benefit from there hospitality. So as Thomas hoisted his glass of Sandeman Port in a toast he looked at me and asked the question “How would you like to stay with us we have a friend that owns a theater restaurant in town we can get you a job under the table as long as you help out with groceries and around the house we’ll take care of the bills” “Well I said the only problem is that everyone has to be on board to travel to Brisbane if I leave early that gives them the entire week in Brisbane to start looking for me but if I ride out the ship and leave the first day in Brisbane that gives me an entire weeks head start before they know I’m gone” “Then it’s settled” Thomas said “you’ll ride up to Brisbane and then come back.”  That night we partied until the early morning hours and then headed for Kingscross were I said my goodbyes and grudgingly boarded the ship. Four days later we pulled into Brisbane harbor under much less fanfare than when we’d sailed into Sydney. We actually had a few protesters on the pier with anti-nuke signs even though we weren’t a nuclear powered ship. Hell we were barely a floating vessel as a supply ship we did a great job but structurally we were falling apart the last time we had been in the Philippines one of the Boson mates was checking a bilge depth with a broom handle when it fell out of his hand and went through the hull. So we decided to get back at the tree hugging hippies we ran down to the sign shop and made a big banner that said “NUKE A WHALE FOR PEACE” then we hung it off the rails of the Helo deck.  The only other big news was one AWOL (Amateur was all I could think when I heard about him) that they sent SP’s out in search of and one stowaway who had needed a ride to Brisbane. As I took a nostalgic stroll around the decks I began to have doubts about my plans would they really let me stay with them what if I jumped ship made my way all the way back to Sidney and they turned me in. This would take a couple of days of thinking about. So that night I decided to walk across the street to the bar right outside the gate and have a couple of cocktails and some quiet time with myself while I weighed the consequences. The thought hit me as I wandered along. Could I jump? It would mean cutting off all communications with my family there’s no way I could tell Albert about it because he’d want to come with me. There would be no getting around that no way he’d let me go alone if he knew. As I stumbled along I came to the conclusion that not only could I do it I had to do it This was my dream the land down under the Navy would always be there but who knew when I would get back or if. There was no way I was letting this opportunity pass I would hate myself forever for not throwing my balls out on the line and saying fuck it all. With the decision made I decided it was cocktail time so I picked up my pace and headed off base and across the street to the bar.

  As I walked into the bar I could hear my name being hollered from the other side of the room so I started to push my way through the little doorway gathering as I broke through the other side I saw the table in the middle of the room a large round top with three very familiar faces sitting around it. Two redheads and a guy, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or fall on my knees and bless some unseen force. When I finally made it to the table they were all three grinning like Cheshire Cats and hoisting glasses. “We thought you might need some convincing of our sincerity so we hopped a bus and rode up.” Thomas said
        I was speechless the only thing I could think to do was sit down pick up the empty glass and pitcher pour myself a beer and take a big slug. “How did you know I’d come to this bar?” I asked
  “Simple” Thomas replied “before you walked off the base what’s the first thing you saw?”
  “This bar” I said
   Thomas didn’t say a word he just smiled cocked his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders with his hands palm up.
  “Am I that predictable?” I asked
  “Let’s hope not” Tomas said “or we could all be in a world of shit.”
  “So when do we head home?” Lorie wanted to know
    We all agreed that catching the bus the next day would be best we could party that night then catch the bus midmorning it was a twenty four hour ride back to Pendle Hill which actually isn’t as bad as it sounds since in Australia they realize that more people will ride the Bus if you make it nice so not only is it a double-decker with plenty of room to spread out but they also have closed circuit TV’s that they show movies on.

 The next morning I went back to the ship and packed up my sea bag as I made my way to the gangway I ran into the Mess Chief. “Where you going Hawk AWOL?” he asked
“No way Chief, just doing laundry.” I stammered trying to give him my most innocent smile and not shit myself at the same time.
  Then I knew he knew I was lying as he walked by he slapped me on my shoulder and said “Just be careful, I’ll see you around.”
  My head was swirling in every direction my stomach was in my throat along with my balls and my asshole was so tight I squeaked when I walked down the gangway.  As I rounded the corner and headed out the gate I saw them standing on the corner next to a taxi I casually walked up tossed the sea bags into the trunk and climbed in it was only then that I started to shake. As we headed off in the cab I asked the driver to pull into the little park next to the pier and pop his trunk. “I’ll be right back.” I said Then I hopped out grabbed the bigger of the two sea bags out of the trunk and headed to the end of the pier as I walked up to the end I hoisted the bag into the air and threw it over the end of the pier and into the waters of Brisbane harbor turned around laughing and made my way back to the cab.
  “What was that all about?” Lorie asked giving me a rather inquisitive look.
  “That” I said “was my last great act of defiance.” I went on to tell them the story of Petty Officer Suck up and the taping incident.

  “Yeah but what has that got to do with the bag?” Thomas asked
  “That wasn’t my sea bag” I said “when I had finished packing my bag I went across to assholes berthing cut his lock off and put everything he owned into his sea bag. I then super glued a note to the outside of his berthing door.”
  “What did the note say?” they all asked in unison
I didn’t say a word I just reached into my pocket and handed them my folded copy. I thought we were going to have to make a side stop at the Hospital they were all laughing so hard. Although I did have to explain the slestacks from “The land of the lost” to them since none of them had ever seen it.





“Slestack:
  You are here by charged with the crimes of being a general pain in the ass, for showering everyone you ever speak to, for never brushing your teeth, hording cleaning supplies, being mean to animals and small children and just an all around bad person for these crimes we the civilized citizens forced to live within these close confines with you have found you guilty your punishment has already been carried out may you suffer appropriately. Your punishment was as follows all of your personnel belongings have been dumped off the end of a pier somewhere along the gold coast you can now go FUCK yourself.
                                                                                     Signed this day:
                                                                          Petty Officer Phuk yew USN
                                                                               AKA Joseph Hawkins
                                                                               Remember the Alamo
  









                       SIX MONTHS LATER:


  Well here we are again I find myself in Seattle sitting in the back of a van handcuffed wondering just exactly what’s going to happen to me. We should probably back up about a week and a half.   It was two days after my birthday and I had found myself more homesick than ever and wondering how to fix it. Things had gone well for me the job had worked out the living arraignments had been perfect I had seen the Gold Coast, Ayers Rock, The Blue Mountains and The Three Sisters; I was a regular at a local football club and had even learned to drive on the wrong side of the road in the wrong seat. I had kept my word to myself I had left without Albert knowing and I hadn’t contacted my family the entire time. Now the only thing to do was decide how to go about getting back to the states all though I had the money it wasn’t like I could just go wandering into an airport and order up a ticket with no passport.
  I decided the best way to go about it was to just turn myself in so I packed my gear after everyone had left and caught the train into Sydney once I made it there I found the nearest payphone and called the US Embassy.  If you think going AWOL is hard try turning yourself in once I finally got someone to answer at the Embassy (Sgt. Pyle USMC) I gave him my name and told him I was AWOL from the USS Proteus and would like to turn myself in. After an exceptionally long pause he comes back on the phone and tells me everyone’s at lunch right now could you call back in a couple of hours?
  I was dumbfounded I couldn’t decide weather to agree or start screaming instead I just hung up without saying anything and started walking towards Kingscross what an asshole was all I could think. Once I made it to the cross I found my way back to Hank’s and wandered over to my favorite spot.  Besides myself there were only two other people drinking and the bartender from the first night. As he walked towards me he had his head kind of half tilted with that I know you from somewhere look on his face.
  “What’ll you have?” he asked
  “Rum on the rocks and a glass of coke” I mumbled
  You could see the light bulb come on above his head as he made the connection and you could hear him muttering, “I’ll be damned” as he walked away. When he returned he sat my two glasses in front of me and then pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket.
  “You know it’s a funny thing if I didn’t know any better I’d swear you look like the third guy on here” he said as he slid the piece of paper across the bar.
   As I looked down all I could do was laugh staring back up at me were four pictures with general descriptions of each person under them and across the top in big letters was one word WANTED under which was the sentence “These persons are believed AWOL from the US Military and should be approached with extreme caution.”
    Yeah that looks just like me doesn’t it hell did you read the description he’s even got the same tattoos as me I said looking up at the Bartender smiling
  “Look mate I say Fuck all governments but you better be careful around here they were handing these out to all the bars in the area two days ago”
  Not a problem mate if I can get someone to answer there phones I’ll be turning myself in in a couple of hours anyway what do I owe you?
  “Are you kidding you made the wanted wall you drink for free here.”  He then pointed to a spot along the back wall I hadn’t noticed before along the roof line was a nice big sign with one word on it Wanted.
   I got up and made my way back to the wall behind a Plexiglas door mounted on the wall were about seventy-five wanted posters they even had one of Ned Kelly not bad company to be in I thought as I made my way around the rest of the bar I realized that there whole décor was made up of criminals and criminal Memorabilia including a replica Ned Kelly Helmet.
  I have to leave them something I thought so I went back to the bar and asked the bartender if he had a marker and the wanted poster in big letters across the corner I wrote “Fuck all forms of Government long live the Kelly Gang.” And signed it The Hawk here hang this in the shitter I said as I handed it back to the bartender.
   He grinned, thanked me and asked me if I wanted another drink while he made his way to the wall to hang up the poster.
     Yeah, but I’d really like something to eat I said
  Three Rums and two meat pies later I decided it was time to try again but I was through fooling with the embassy so I pulled my ball cap down over my eyes and headed down the hill if I was going in it was on my terms I wasn’t about to let some $5.00 an hour rent a cop catch me in the cross I’d walk in on my own power when I felt like it.
  As I hit the bottom of the hill I saw the gate for the Australian Naval Base we had been docked at and decided to try my luck there I walked up handed the guard my ID and said “My names Petty Officer Hawkins I’m AWOL from the USS Proteus and I’d like to turn myself in.”
    I shit you not this jack-off looks at me and say’s “Petty Officer I’m a civilian employee but there’s another gate about a mile down the road could you walk down there and turn yourself in?”
  All I could do is start laughing so I grabbed my ID and headed down the street.
   See as long as I kept my ID it showed intent to return and I was therefore only AWOL not a Deserter but the Aussie military has it right if you leave after thirty days they decide you don’t want to be there and they don’t want you so they send an Honorable Discharge to your last known address.
   A mile and three bars later I finally made it to the next gate walked up and gave the guard my same spiel and once again another Jack-off looks at me and gives me the same spiel back about being a civilian employee and there being a third gate another mile down the road.
  Well kiss my ass was all I could think so I headed out and across to the first bar I saw. This is getting ridiculous I was thinking maybe it would be easier to just stay. I’ll give it one more shot so a few bars and another mile later I stumbled up to the third gate.
  When I walked up I knew I should have quit after the third rejection.
  That was defiantly no civilian employee sitting inside that guard shack and he was looking at me like a dingo stalking a baby.
 When I opened the door and stepped in he simply looked up smiled and said “Petty Officer Hawkins we’ve been waiting for you.” I just smiled back and nodded.
  He called in to the guard HQ and they sent an officer over to escort me back to the office there they took my ID asked me a few questions and then out of the blue the head officer looks up from my ID and asks what does this NCO mean on your ID. Stands for Non Commissioned Officer I replied Officer he says well take him over to the officers’ mess for chow and put him up in the officers’ barracks for tonight the embassy will be here in the morning to deal with him.
  The next day they get me up and take me back down to the office where some pencil necked geek from the embassy is waiting for me.
  “Where are you home ported?” were the first words out of his mouth. 
  Know he didn’t ask me where my ship was hell he didn’t even say hello.
    Now I knew my ship was in Washington State being decommissioned along with her crew being sent from there to their-new duty stations but he didn’t ask where my ship was he asked me where I was home ported so I told him “Guam.”
 Well it turns out my luck hadn’t run out yet cause he looks up at me and says, “Guam was hit by a typhoon two days ago we’ll have to send you to Pearl Harbor until Guam opens back up.”
  Wonderful I always wanted to see Hawaii is what I was thinking not what I said but what I was thinking “Yes Sir” was all I said
 So they load me into the back of an Australian Military Police truck which looks like a mini version of the old fashioned Ice cream trucks with a cab in front and the box in back and drive me over to Sydney airport where they escort me through customs all the way to the gate and stand by until I board the plane and I had yet to have a pair of handcuffs on.
  Twenty something hours later and an almost uneventful flight although the Aussie guy I was stuck in the last row with and myself did get cut off for singing while everyone else was trying to sleep of course they also left the drink cart parked right there next to us so we didn’t slow down at all we just quieted down a bit.
  Once we finally touched down in Pearl I figured this is it I’m going into the cuffs and the funs all over so I waited until the entire rest of the plane emptied before even bothering to get up and did the slow stroll towards the front of the plane. As I came up the jet way I half expected to see armed SP’s waiting but no one was there so I made my way through customs and down to baggage claim and still no one was there. Here once again I’m faced with that dilemma of life is it wise to just hang out at the beach with no were to run since I’m on an island or face the music.
  I made the wise choice for once in my life I walked outside stuck out my thumb and hopped into the first truck that stopped “where to Bro” the driver asked
  “Pearl Harbor Naval Base please, you can drop me at the main gate.” I replied












                                          PART III

Well life had been good during my stay in Pearl Harbor. I arrived at the Naval Base flashed my ID at the gate and wandered in like I belonged there. As I roamed along the base roads following the signs towards the SP headquarters I realized it’s hard not to visualize that day in 1941 when all hell broke loose. The entire base looked like it came off of the back lot of MGM. I kept expecting John Wayne to come strolling out from behind a palm tree. I made my way into the building that housed the SP office and peaked in the door there they all sat clustered together having there morning muster. Not wanting to interrupt and certainly not wanting to land in the brig sooner than necessary I just stood in the doorway and listened to the orders for the day. It took all I had to suppress a smirk and snicker as I overheard there CO make the statement that Petty Officer Hawkins was flying in today and someone needed to meet him at the airport. I couldn’t wait any longer I rapped on the door frame excused myself and said “Don’t worry about going to the airport I found my own way here.” You would have thought someone had thrown a rattlesnake into the room as they all scrambled out of there chairs and headed towards me. I simply threw my arms halfway up and said “Look guys I give, I came in on my own volition I’m not running now.” The first class petty officer stopped in front of me looked at me and growled “You Petty officer Hawkins.” “Yes I am” I said smiling. “Go sit at that desk and wait for the JAG.” He snarled.  It must have been two hours before the JAG finally came stumbling in looking flustered.
 “Petty officer Hawkins?” she asked
“Yes ma’am.” I said
She sat down across from me at the desk and began shuffling through paperwork finally she looked up blew a strand of hair out of her face and smiled.
“Well petty officer Hawkins you must sail under a lucky star.” She said
“How’s that ma’am?” I asked
“Well as you know Guam was hit by a typhoon and the communications systems are down so we have no way of getting any paperwork proving you’ve done anything wrong. So we’ll put you in the transient barracks you’ll work Monday through Friday 0700-1700 with weekends off and no restrictions. Then once Guam reopens we’ll contact your CO and arrange to ship you back.” She said


Now I should explain the transient barracks. They were designed in a temporary moment of military brilliance. They’re set up so that lets say you go home on leave for 60 days and a week and a half into your leave you and your girlfriend or dad or whomever get into an argument and you no longer want to be home on leave. You simply go to the nearest military base check into the transient barracks and immediately your leave is stopped. Now you’ve only used up ten days of your leave you can bank the other 50 days and you have a place to stay for the next 50 days until your plane back to your duty station leaves. In the meantime you work as sort of a day laborer from 0700-1700 Monday through Friday doing odd jobs around the base like raking leaves mowing grass painting signs all the scrub work no one else really wants to have to do and nights and weekends you’re free to do as you please and go where you want. Not to mention you can pick up your pay, shop on base and unless you were visiting the middle of the boonies to begin with you’re probably less than a hundred miles from your family so you can still visit everyone you wouldn’t have gotten to see if you’d just gone back to your duty station. So basically here sits this JAG across from me handing me a ticket to party in Hawaii until Guam reopens and that’s exactly what I planned to do.
As I stared across the desk looking at her with my mental mouth hanging wide open at my dumb luck I couldn’t contain the smile any longer. I looked her right in the eyes and asked “Since its Saturday morning does that mean I’m free to go?”
“As a matter of fact Petty Officer it does. Just be sure to be at the duty muster at 0700 Monday Morning.” She said with a little half grin.
Without looking up, I could feel the eye’s of the shore patrol officer’s burning through me with hate and anger. I was proud of what I’d done and had been brutally honest with everyone who questioned me from the moment I turned myself in. I had discussed the case openly with a couple of the officers while waiting on the JAG to arrive I knew I was guilty, they all knew I was guilty and they also knew I was getting a week and a half vacation in Hawaii at the governments expense.
The first order of business was to go to the barracks and get checked in and then find the nearest transportation off the base and into the darkest dingiest bar I could find. I had no doubt that if I went anywhere near a base bar or any Navy bar those blood thirsty pit bulls with the arm bands and night sticks would be waiting to pounce and pound me into something resembling year old hamburger. Oh you can be sure they wouldn’t start it themselves that would be beneath them. Instead they would pass the word to some pent up frustrated grease monkey from one of the engine rooms and have him start the fight or worse they’d mention it to some gung-ho jarhead who’s wife had screwed around with a swab and who wanted revenge. Either way you could be sure the instigating party would conveniently slip away during the melee of breaking up the fight and I would be charged with not only public drunkenness but disorderly conduct, insubordination, resisting arrest and if they could work it in probably inciting a riot. Not to mention there’s no telling how many bones I would break during the supposed resisting arrest. No the only place for me was some dark dingy out of the way hole with barflies, power drinkers and enough low hanging smoke so that if they did come in I would see them first and have a chance to slip out the back door. Or at least I hoped.

You know there’s a reason songs have been written, wars have been fought and mutinies have occurred over the women of the pacific. The beauty of a Polynesian woman is the fact that they don’t flaunt there beauty. They just assume everything around them is beautiful why shouldn’t they be and god they are right.

  Having described to the cabbie exactly what kind of bar I needed he had headed out for parts unknown as I sat in the back pondering the beauty of the surroundings and daydreaming of the Island beauty I hoped to find.

 As the cab turned off the paved road onto a crushed shell trail winding into the jungle I noticed on the side of the road a large anchor painted white with a sign hanging around it “Pirates Cove” it said. Great I thought this is either exactly what I want or it’s a tourist trap either way it was far enough away from the base that the likelihood of an abundance of squids being there was slim but not unlikely.  “Hey bud there’s not going to be a lot of Haole’s here right?” I asked

He looked back over the top of his Tom Selleck knock off aviators and flashed me a smile I would learn to love “Bra the Haole’s couldn’t find this place with a map your safe here.” He said smiling “Oh but there may be one here to see you.” He said smiling even bigger.

“What do you mean?” I asked

“You’ll see bra no worries.” He chuckled

As I sank back into the seat and mentally prepared myself for the ass whooping I was sure was coming certain he had been paid off by one of the SP’s I vowed at least one of my shots would knock out what teeth he had left in his mouth.

We rounded a curve in the trail and I contemplated rolling out the opposite side door and making a run for it through the jungle but then the thought hit me that if that was an option they would have never picked this place. Aside from the jungle being thick as a wall on both sides we hadn’t driven past anything but open fields and plantations for miles the possibility of finding shelter let alone help were nil and void. As we rounded the next curve a clearing began to come into sight taken up by a crushed shell parking lot and a low slung white building. One of those buildings with the white paint scorched into it that looks like it’s seen more typhoons than god and been on the island since before any man.  As we made our way towards the front of the building I decided to play it cool and see how things worked out.

“What do I owe you?” I asked
“Nothing bra it’s been covered.” He said smiling. Now I was starting to cringe at that grin
“Who covered it?” I asked
“He did.” He said Pointing towards the door.
    I grudgingly looked up expecting to see some behemoth of a man waiting to pulverize me but instead there standing on the porch in a pair of Navy diver BDU shorts, flip flops no shirt and the same ugly lopsided aviator shades as my driver. Was a 5’6” 145lbs Texan that I didn’t think I’d ever see again in my life and he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Well I heard they finally rounded you up and were bringing you in.” Albert said laughing
 I stumbled out of the cab as confused as I’d probably ever been and the questions began to pour out.
“What are you doing here?” “How’d you know I was here?” and just what the hells going on? I asked in a sort of machine gun staccato.
“Relax come on in and meet some people.” “I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised.” Albert said “You’ve already met Joe your driver.”
“Hi.” I said turning to him as he just looked at me and smiled.
We made our way into what looked like the bastard child of an old dock bar and a Texas beer joint. The décor was about 50/50 of each but the juke box was pure beer joint with Hank Williams Sr. wafting out of it as we wandered in.
“That’s Haiku tending the bar.” Albert said as he motioned to a Samoan standing behind the bar that looked like he could crush me with a finger let alone a whole hand. “This is Luna our waitress.” He motioned towards a Polynesian goddess as she walked by. “Hi” she said smiling knocking me completely dumbfounded as she strolled by. Albert looked back since I had not only quit breathing but walking, blinking or speaking. “Relax big boy.” He said that’s Joe’s granddaughter. “Oh” was all I could mumble. “And this is my fiancé.” He said as I turned to introduce myself there I stood face to face with the JAG. “Ma’am” was all I could utter with I’m sure a very confused look. “Around here you can call me Tina.” She said smiling.
“How’d you think I knew you’d been snared?” Albert laughed I just shrugged unsure of what to say about anything. “What is all of this?” I asked “Well after you jumped ship we made our way back to Guam dumped off all but the skeleton crew and set sail for Seattle to decommission the ship.” Albert said
 I looked to Tina with a start realizing Albert had just pointed out that I had no reason to wait for Guam to open up she just sat there smiling. “I already knew that honey but how were we going to have this little meeting if I shipped you off to Seattle right away?” Tina asked “We’ll give it a few days then find the error, for now just enjoy your self.” She said I looked back to Albert almost as confused as when we started.
“Anyway where was I?” Albert asked “Oh yeah so when we reached Pearl Harbor for our stop over there was a Red Cross telegram waiting for me my father had died of a sudden heart attack well as you know we hadn’t spoken since I was 8 but I guess he figured he’d make up for 13 years with one act apparently he kept a card on him with my contact info and listed me as his only next of kin. So I flew back to Texas to bury him and settle up any estate he had which consisted of some old pictures, cheap jewelry and a key to a safe deposit box. So I went to the bank the day after the funeral, opened the box and inside where three things a letter to me and two life insurance policies totaling $850,000.  I flew back here finished up the month and a half I had left and had Tina help me out with settling up with the insurance companies.” “Once I was out we began to date and fell in love.” “Along the way I found this place for sale cheap and since you and I had talked about opening a beach bar someday and I knew when they found you you’d have to come through here. I bought the place started to set it up just like we talked about and asked Tina to keep an eye out for you.”  “Come on let me show you around some more.” Albert said He started to give me a little history lesson on the building. “This was originally a one room beach house for one of the plantations they would hold gatherings and parties here but as the plantation owners became more and more corporate the building kind of fell by the wayside and the driveway in started returning to the jungle. Well Joe used to work for the owners and he and I met up in a locals’ only place more inland. Tina’s originally from here her Dad was a Navy mustang officer so she was taking me around introducing me to all the good people and Joe and I started talking about nontourist bars and how much we wanted to open one and he mentioned this place and took me down to meet the owners. I got em to sale it to me for a song and as they say the rest is history.” As he had been talking we had been wandering through looking at the décor the walls were covered in a combination Texas cowboy and Hawaiian island/fishing memorabilia but not the kind of stuff you’d get out of some catalog titled “Bar decorations for any theme.” or some corporate crap but the kinda stuff you’d find digging through junkshops and antique and garage sales. “So once I bought the place I called a buddy back home had him rent a semi trailer and start hitting all the junkshops and yard sales he could find and Joe and I started doing the same thing over here once he shipped it to me we started cleaning and fixing up the place. You’d be amazed at the amount of stuff we still have in storage.”  Albert said
By this time we’d made our way to the rear wall across the small dance floor. The wall had four French doors on it which once they were opened gave the impression of there being no wall at all. As Albert opened them up I stood there with eyes closed as he’d instructed once they were all open he grabbed me by the elbow pulled me to the center of the doorways and told me to open my eyes and step out. I stepped out onto a balcony running the length of the building and wide enough to have fit almost an identical building onto it. It had a hip high wall running all the way around from either side with about a six foot wide hole right in the center at that point both walls made ninety degree turns towards the beach and became banisters leading down seven steps to a path for about seventy five yards with beautiful green grass on either side and then opened onto the beach which went out about a hundred yards and about two hundred and fifty yards across. Not to mention on either side of the beach was the same thick jungle as along the driveway coming in. In other words the only way to this beach was to walk through the bar or come up on it from the ocean.  Scattered throughout the tree lines Albert and the gang had chopped away enough vegetation that they had about eight hammocks hanging here and there in no particular order scattered as randomly as a person could without creating a pattern. Along with a few beach chairs scattered about and a huge fire pit right in the center of the beach and best of all there were about half a dozen rocking chairs scattered around the patio.

“So where do I fit in? I asked Albert
He looked at me smiling for a minute then asked “How about we grab a drink and wander down the beach just you and me.” So we walked back in to the bar and up to Haiku “Rum and Dr Pepper Sir?” he asked me I looked over at Albert laughing and said “First off Haiku the names Hawk not sir secondly yes please.” He laughed a laugh that would of awoken the tiki gods handed me my drink and Albert a beer and said “You got it Hawk welcome home bra.” We sipped our drinks in silence for a while as we wandered out onto the beach that silence between two true best friends that says there’s a serious conversation coming but nothing that’s going to ruin the bond we have. As we got out past the fire pit Albert looked at me and started “You realize once you make it back to the ship you’re going to have to go to the brig for a while?” “I know.” I said “My only hope is that I can get a lenient court martial and they don’t try to make an example out of me.” “Well this is where I come in.” Albert said “Tina’s friends with the JAG in Bremerton, Washington that’s going to be prosecuting you, your going to get ninety days at hard labor, a reduction in pay grade all the way down to Seaman and an other than honorable discharge.” “Ok and the good news.” I asked Albert laughed called me a smart ass and said come on follow me. As we headed on down the beach I began to notice an opening on one side into the jungle. As we reached the head of the trail Albert stopped looked at me and said “Tina and I are getting married in a few months once your back and can act as my best man that is, once that happens I plan on being the silent partner around here and letting you run the place.” “That’s great and all but I got no way to pay my way back here, no place to stay and no way to get around I’d love to do this brother but I’m stuck like chuck as they say back home.” I replied “Look I told you how much the old man left me I’m paying for you to fly back end of discussion, the jacked up Jeep Wrangler out in the parking lot is the managers vehicle and as far as a place to stay follow me.” We started down the foot path into the jungle it wound around about a hundred feet into the jungle and came out to a small clearing sitting in the middle of the clearing was a little one room bungalow that looked like a miniature version of the bar. It even had a rocking chair sitting out front. “This was the executive’s getaway when they were having parties but don’t worry we cleaned it up and changed the sheets.” Albert said “It comes with the manager’s position so what do you think I’ve shot holes in all of your arguments.” Albert asked
I stood there for awhile staring at the little bungalow with it’s canopy of hibiscus and palm trees wandering away from Albert for a minute along the path that went around what I already knew would be my future home out back was a little ground level patio with another rocking chair. I had to hand it to Albert he liked rocking chairs just as much as I did. I opened the back door and walked in it was small but quaint with shelves carved into the walls a slightly wider than twin bed and a small ship board style kitchen area. I’m not a big knick knack kind of guy but as long as I had a bed, a place to store a few books and somewhere to keep a few cold beers and Dr Peppers I was set. Albert came walking in the front door as I was peering into the head. “What do you think?” He asked. “Well I swore once I got out of the Navy I’d never take anything but baths but I suppose I can rent a hotel room once a month to enjoy a bath.” I said smiling “Then it’s settled Monday morning Tina will find the error and have you shipped to Seattle you’ll do your ninety days and be back in time for the wedding but for now lets enjoy the weekend.”



















                                     Prologue 10 years later 

Well Albert and Tina ended up getting married and having a couple of wonderfully mischievous little boys. They live outside of Houston now where Tina is in private practice working for Racehorse Haynes one of the greatest criminal attorneys of all time while Albert is a stay at home dad. My self I came back to the island and moved into my bungalow to run the business we’ve gone from strictly local to mildly touristy but not so bad as to make it disgusting usually it’s the repeat haole’s on there fourth or fifth visit to the island who finally find us, occasionally it’s a first timer but they’re usually ones karma meant to find us. As for Haiku he’s still tending bar and Joe’s still doing whatever it is Joe does sort of my man Friday and as for Luna she as beautiful as ever we’ve been dating on and off since I moved back and as for me. I’m finally on my beach not really having to work at all.