Fast Times Chapter 16

     
 Transition...   
The Skipjack and I had finished the last long run patrol. This was a good thing. The countdown to civilian life had started. We were still going out on short trips but my last real patrol was history. That said, my old sports car cruising the country side was also done. This was my last summer in the navy... I had sold the car for a thousand dollars. trying to sell a rag top in the colder months was not easy. I was also afraid to drive the Triumph all the way across country. She being a tad touchy on the open road. The fellow who bought my pride and joy, said he'd take the TR-3 back to Arkansas...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The party scene was still alive and well. My shipmate Vic and I hit the road in his Oldsmobile Cutlass coupe. We were out to burn the tires off her. This car with four hundred forty cubic inch,       V-8 engine could really scream. Vic had picked up four six packs of a stout malt liquor and a gallon of warm table wine. The Mad hatter as he was known, had a gift of gab and a heavy foot. We decided to hit all the bars in Virginia Beach. We were at a traffic light stopped on a four lane highway when the Corvette pulled up. He revved his engine and the race was on. The third gear rubber was smoldering and the blue smoke was thick. Vic had him by a car length.  The two road warriors were at the next stop light. We were side by side, the cars ready to burn up the lanes. Then a cop pulls into the intersection across from us. The Corvette shuts down but not the Mad hatter. The light turns green and the rocket sled fires. We were swerving side ways and were smoking into second gear. The car shot down the straightaway on fire.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Vic pulls over in the gravel shoulder half mile up the road. He says, let me handle this. The cop rolls up behind us, lights flashing. It was just about sundown. The trooper walks over to the car. He bends over us in the window. The cop says, didn't you guys see me sitting there? Calm as ice.... Vic says, "yeah" quite a show huh?  You got my attention... the trooper smiled. Vic goes into his act, how we just returned from Nam.'  We had to let off some over due steam. What are you boys drinking? Oh! we just had a few beers, the night is young. The cop looks over at me shaking his head, you sober? Oh... yes sir.  The trooper says then you'd better drive.  I don't want to see either of you this way again tonight. Got me?   You got it officer, I said, as we changed places. The trooper gets back in his patrol car.  I slip off the clutch and sent flying rocks and gravel onto his hood and windshield. Hey Mad hatter stick that eight track in, lets get this party started. That Georgia boy could sure sling the crap. I was in bad company for sure.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             My shipmate, Vic had a scar across his forehead when he was dared to ski down this slope in Utah.  He'd never had ski's on before, went straight down the hill until a post or something, stopped him. They don't get much snow in Valdosta, Georgia. Utah is were they trained the submarine nuclear engineers. He survived the school. Vic had a need for speed. Hey Benito! pull over I'm driving. The Peppermint Lounge was hopping and we were a little drunk. The Beach Boys were playing to the crowd. These short haired sailors weren't doing so good with the ladies. The moves on the dance floor had changed. They danced different than a few months prior. Just about the time I'd get the new moves nailed. We'd be back at sea, the dances all changing again. It was fun, the two of us hit three more places and our beer was gone. Vic says open the wine, " a big mistake."  The hot wheels and us start back to Norfolk, its three o'clock in the morning.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Take the back roads Vic, don't need that trooper in the mirror. The radio was playing this new song, Bad Moon Rising, by Creedence Clear Water. The moon was full. Mad hatter hit this train crossing at over one hundred miles an hour. These old country road type of tracks
 on a levy hill. This was a major bump. The car was airborne and flew a long distance. We bounced the coupe's frame on the pavement, twice. The box of eight tracks in the backseat and I changed places. Me now in the back with the empty beer cans. Vic stops and checks the gauges. He looks out the window, seeing no pieces of car anywhere. Hey! this Old's Cutlass is awesome. Vic and I stop at a cafe for coffee. The two drunk sailors return to the car in the parking lot. Once inside, the two of us slam the doors at the same time. They bounced back open. Laughing real hard, we both realize the car frame is bent just like us. Damn it, Slam it! from that moment on you had to lift the doors to shut them.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         The Mad hatter had helped me get my qualifications in the engineering spaces. We'd been friends over a year. The reactor, steam turbines and shaft alley, I knew by heart. We had a five bladed propeller in those days. It was meant for speed too. The hub was like four foot thick and the blades tip to tip were huge. All brass just like us. Life was good. At that time, reenlistment was being sold to me by the Navy. Nixon was also giving all the servicemen an early out. I was supposed to get out on my birthday, January 26, 1970. The president cut that to October 69'. That said, it was these hot August nights that interested me at the moment.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               I was offered a ten grand bonus to add another four years.  That said, I was burnt out, me and Bobby had opted to leave. I had sixty days tops. The boat cruised back up the coast and had sea operations with the sub fleet. The Skipjack had daily runs out of New London. Darleen and I  had a three day weekend, Memorial Day holiday. We hadn't seen each other for awhile. The train into New York and then Long Island was on time. That said, I had a room in Amityville for a couple of days. I wasn't staying at her father's estate that's for sure. She and I talked about the future. She was starting her senior year. I could live off campus and work in this small town up there. The weekend time with her was hot and steamy. I was having a hard time leaving her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           I extended my stay. The train connections missed. The long goodbye. I was in deep trouble, being eight hours over due at the base. The captain was not happy. This sailor's ass was exposed. This wouldn't look good on my record, my first offense. The sub was building gallows on the back deck. The accused was in shackles. The boat left New London and would go to sea. The sailor then hung, weighted and buried. Then the submarine returns to port. The international rules in play. This was the Turkish submarine's resolve. The crew member accused of a rape. They handled there own and he didn't come back with them.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     That said, I faced a captain's mast and was knocked down from third class petty officer to seamen, two weeks restricted to the base. The captain told me if I reenlisted, they'd give me the rate back. Hardball for sure, the captain really liked me but they needed this IC electrician. I had a lot to think about. I'm sure glad it wasn't the Turkish Navy. The trip back to Norfolk went smooth. I would miss this crew and I loved this boat. The truth was the dark times back then. The public's treatment of the troops had a lot to be desired. It was not fair to the military men in general. I gave away all my Navy stuff in the end. These guys that were family to me deserved better. The service they performed, had not been recognized. The national defense ribbon was given after boot camp. We all earned it. The silent service needs to share their stories. The cold war submarine patrols lasted over three decades. These men risk much for their country. The United States has the best sub sailors. My tales are just that, ask my mother. I still have my dolphins, hanging  in my old trawler. The Alley Cat the slowest boat on the Sea.