daughter?”
“Stupid
Aviator,” said the captain, and the three officers beside him
nodded in agreement.
“Never discuss
women with your fellow officers while in the wardroom.”
“You know, your
highness,” said Guns, “if we could just get rid of some of those
silly airplanes, I think we could put an eight-inch mount up on the
forecastle.”
“That’s a good
idea,” said Engineer.
“Sure was a
nice day for flying,” said Aviator.
“Who is that
asshole on the end?” asked the captain.
“Just one of
the flyboys,” said XO. “You know how they are.”
“Never talk
shop while in the wardroom. Politics is also a forbidden subject.
This leaves the officers and gentlemen free to discuss such
exciting topics as art, the weather, and poetry.”
“There was a
young lady from Dallas,” said the captain, “who used dynamite for a
phallus. They found her vagina in South Carolina, and her asshole
in Buckingham Palace,” The “actors” roared with laughter and
elbowed each other broadly.
“Always laugh
at the captain’s jokes,” said Schuster. “That one isn’t in the
manual, but it’s a pretty good idea.”
“Oh, darn,”
said Aviator, “I dropped my soup spoon.”
The Captain
stood up, pounded the table with his fist and shouted, “Who’s the
motherfucking son of a bitch who said that? There’ll be no fucking
cursing in my wardroom!”
“Swearing in
the wardroom is the mark of a brutish and insensitive cad,” said
Schuster.
Guns produced a
white handkerchief which he fluttered through the air toward
Aviator. “You insensitive cad, you,” he said.
The five seated
pilots pulled folded pieces of paper from pockets and hats. “If you
are ever late for a sitting,” read Brogan, “and arrive after the
meal has been served, approach the captain, apologize for your
lateness, and politely request permission to be seated.”
“Never,” read
Hammerstein, “never, never put your feet up on the wardroom
furnishings.”
“Always start
with the outside fork,” read Higgins.
“The uniform
for the evening meal is the dress uniform for the appropriate
clime,” read Bracker. He looked up. “Jesus, is that right?”
“Depends on the
captain,” said Schuster. “Please continue.”
“If you must
leave before the captain finishes eating, wait until coffee is
served, then politely ask the captain if you may be excused.”
Higgins read, then wadded up his piece of paper, and tossed it over
his shoulder. “What a crock of shit,” he said.
“Do not tarry
in the wardroom during working hours or after a meal,” offered
Brogan, stumbling over the word “tarry.” “This gives the steward
the chance to perform cleaning duties and prepare for the next
meal.”
“Thank you,
gentlemen,” said Schuster. “This concludes my presentation on
wardroom etiquette. Are there any questions?” He looked around the
room. One ensign was nodding off. No one appeared terribly
interested.
“Hey,” said
Duggin, at the back of the room near the door. “I think the
skipper’s coming.” Brogan turned around and began taking off his
medals.
Jack Hardigan
came into the room. Fred took a sharp breath, turned his head,
closed his eyes. “Forget the speech, Mister Schuster,” Jack said. “Ironsides sails in one hour and we take off in two.” He disappeared back
through the door. Fred exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.
Duane Higgins
was already on his feet, removing the “XO” paper, and forcing his
way through the room to the door Jack had just gone through. When
he reached it, he turned and spoke loudly to the whole room. “Don’t
just sit there, guys, get moving.” He opened the door, was
gone.
Fred climbed
wearily to his feet and thought, it’ll be better when we get to
sea, I’m sure it will. He found his yellow Mae West and pulled it
on. It has to be better, he thought.
The United
States Navy’s dramatic increase in carrier strength during 1943 is
best illustrated by some
“Stupid
Aviator,” said the captain, and the three officers beside him
nodded in agreement.
“Never discuss
women with your fellow officers while in the wardroom.”
“You know, your
highness,” said Guns, “if we could just get rid of some of those
silly airplanes, I think we could put an eight-inch mount up on the
forecastle.”
“That’s a good
idea,” said Engineer.
“Sure was a
nice day for flying,” said Aviator.
“Who is that
asshole on the end?” asked the captain.
“Just one of
the flyboys,” said XO. “You know how they are.”
“Never talk
shop while in the wardroom. Politics is also a forbidden subject.
This leaves the officers and gentlemen free to discuss such
exciting topics as art, the weather, and poetry.”
“There was a
young lady from Dallas,” said the captain, “who used dynamite for a
phallus. They found her vagina in South Carolina, and her asshole
in Buckingham Palace,” The “actors” roared with laughter and
elbowed each other broadly.
“Always laugh
at the captain’s jokes,” said Schuster. “That one isn’t in the
manual, but it’s a pretty good idea.”
“Oh, darn,”
said Aviator, “I dropped my soup spoon.”
The Captain
stood up, pounded the table with his fist and shouted, “Who’s the
motherfucking son of a bitch who said that? There’ll be no fucking
cursing in my wardroom!”
“Swearing in
the wardroom is the mark of a brutish and insensitive cad,” said
Schuster.
Guns produced a
white handkerchief which he fluttered through the air toward
Aviator. “You insensitive cad, you,” he said.
The five seated
pilots pulled folded pieces of paper from pockets and hats. “If you
are ever late for a sitting,” read Brogan, “and arrive after the
meal has been served, approach the captain, apologize for your
lateness, and politely request permission to be seated.”
“Never,” read
Hammerstein, “never, never put your feet up on the wardroom
furnishings.”
“Always start
with the outside fork,” read Higgins.
“The uniform
for the evening meal is the dress uniform for the appropriate
clime,” read Bracker. He looked up. “Jesus, is that right?”
“Depends on the
captain,” said Schuster. “Please continue.”
“If you must
leave before the captain finishes eating, wait until coffee is
served, then politely ask the captain if you may be excused.”
Higgins read, then wadded up his piece of paper, and tossed it over
his shoulder. “What a crock of shit,” he said.
“Do not tarry
in the wardroom during working hours or after a meal,” offered
Brogan, stumbling over the word “tarry.” “This gives the steward
the chance to perform cleaning duties and prepare for the next
meal.”
“Thank you,
gentlemen,” said Schuster. “This concludes my presentation on
wardroom etiquette. Are there any questions?” He looked around the
room. One ensign was nodding off. No one appeared terribly
interested.
“Hey,” said
Duggin, at the back of the room near the door. “I think the
skipper’s coming.” Brogan turned around and began taking off his
medals.
Jack Hardigan
came into the room. Fred took a sharp breath, turned his head,
closed his eyes. “Forget the speech, Mister Schuster,” Jack said. “Ironsides sails in one hour and we take off in two.” He disappeared back
through the door. Fred exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.
Duane Higgins
was already on his feet, removing the “XO” paper, and forcing his
way through the room to the door Jack had just gone through. When
he reached it, he turned and spoke loudly to the whole room. “Don’t
just sit there, guys, get moving.” He opened the door, was
gone.
Fred climbed
wearily to his feet and thought, it’ll be better when we get to
sea, I’m sure it will. He found his yellow Mae West and pulled it
on. It has to be better, he thought.
The United
States Navy’s dramatic increase in carrier strength during 1943 is
best illustrated by some
Similar Books
