New Homeport Island (22 page)

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Authors: Robert Lyon

Tags: #Adult, #War, #Sea

BOOK: New Homeport Island
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The work crew was gathering more wood for the fire which
 had been maintained religiously. The size of the fire in the circle
 of lean-tos now also walled off but four walls and a fifth wall
 the was more of a thicket forming an arch was to be reduced to a
 much smaller fire to prevent those walls from catching fire.
Artimus instructed the officers to have the enlisted coat the
 wood with mud to further reduce the chance of a ‘surprise your
 fort is now an oven, turkey!’ moment.  
The ‘blue shirts’, enlisted pay grades E-6 and below, were
 dirty and getting dirtier still as they carried mud over to the
 pentagon and threw mud pies at the walls like hippie protestors.
Hudlow made a little smily face out of his mud pie and showed
 it to Lieutenant Capes and said, “It’s you!” then throw it at the
 woven twig wall and just as he turned to give Mr. Capes the
 middle finger capes slapped him so hard Hudlow fell down and
 the Robert Capes said, “James, get your head out of your ass.”
Hudlow looked away from him lying there in the sand and
 turned to look at the ocean waves but once again there he
 was…the sand spider. Hudlow started sweating and shuffled
 away on his back then ran around saying, “There’s spiders
 everywhere!”
Robert said, “I think he just likes you James.” and walked back
 into the pentagon. Atrisia stood with a pile of mud in her hand
 she was considering throwing at James and then thought she
 might have a better target. She scratched at her crotch and
 looked around, Ebony Allick made eye contact with her and just
 before Atrisia could tell her to screw off Ebony gave her a sly
 look and reached down her dungaree pants and scratched at
 herself as well. Atrisia nips got erected and she turned and threw
 the mud pie at she wall as hard as she could then rubbed her
 shoulder saying to herself, “to bad I don’t like black girls.”

Ebony had come up behind her while she was rubbing her
 shoulders and started rubbing them for her and whispered, “I
 don’t like white girls either.” Mister Deckly noticed the apparent
 sexual context of the situation and had been observing the work,
 concerned over the hostility and the sudden onset of lesbian lust
 he blushed and walked away.
EN3 Rich stepped up near Atrisia and had a hand full of
 mud himself, and said, “Throwing it that hard looks like it really
 works, it got into all the gaps.” He held out his hand with the
 mud in it and asked, “Was it wetter than this?” Atrisia suspected
 double entendre and looked at it, in a hazey melo demeanor she
 replied, “It’s about that wet, but might be stickier.” Ebony
 giggled and pulled Atrisia away. Rich threw his mud at the wall
 hard enough that there was a thud.  Orbly walked up and in a
 rant he started making mud pies from a cache of mud he had
 placed in his dungaree shirt that he carried like a bag over his
 shoulder he dropped it on the ground and packed mud like
 snowballs as he threw them yelling, “Fucking island…Fucking
Officers…Fucking bitches…” Mulner saw this and she became
 enraged and ran at Orbly to tackle him as she knocked him down
 her bra broke and he grabbed at her breast tring to subdue her,
 she yelled, “You just tore my bra bitch!” Orbly grabbed a had
 full of mud from his shirt next to he and slapped her with it. In
 the shock of the moment everyone observing that saw the mud
 splatter in slow motion and the range of facial expressions that
 crossed Kimberly Mulners was surreal, shock does that…slows
 thing down because it has sped you up. She looked down at
 orbly with mud splattered in her hair, she realized she was
 straddling his chest and all her anger over the circumstance
 overwhelmed her, she reached over for a handful of mud as if
 she were at her desk reaching for an ink pen and was going to

set to work, she took the mud and with an odd psychotic smile
 and twist of her head started packing handful after handful of
 mud into James Orbly’s face James clawed at her breasts and
Kimberly rode his chest like a mechanical bull, ensuring she got
 mud into his mouth and up his nose. Once James recovered from
 his rage he realized she was trying to kill him as he spit out mud
 and wiped it from his eyes and he struck her as hard as he could
 in the left temple. Kimberly was knocked unconscious and
Orbly threw her off of him. As he assessed the situation he
 became enraged again, with both hands he grabbed her by the
 neck and started dragging her down the water to the surf, leaving
 a wide trail in the sand.
Mr. Deckly had been observing from a distance on a slight
 slope leading up to the brush line, he passed out where he stood.
Mr. Mormus lay nearby still sleeping but his breathing had
 become noticeably labored. Chief Tony Casley felt sick and
 slumped over having spread his legs wide enough to stand
 stable, he looked as though he were going to throw up. BM3
Brock became enraged as well, and ran at the wall as though it
 were a tackling dummy and slammed his shoulder against it.  
On the other side of the pentagon the mudslinging
 continued as they cursed their predicament and those that
 brought us here. Dave sat in his lean-to waiting for the moment
 to pass but this was far more than just a moment, the escalation
 continued.
I was on the beach, about three football fields in length or
 three hundred yards away from these ‘goings on’. Tommi
Grubble and I were lashing the logs together in a square shape
 like a pontoon boat, the refinement of a hollowed out section to
 sit in would have to wait. The net was being woven be Michael
 and Jennifer, Mike Elper joined in occasionally while Mitch

tended to the boilers, he had to fan the flames with a palm
 branch and remove full vases replacing them with the empties
 and refill the boilers with sea water he carried in the deep cups.
   Once we had lashed the two logs and two long branches
 together he had to test it for buoyancy. Tommi and I pushed it
 through the surf more than a little concerned that it might be
 carried out to sea. Through the sound of the crashing waves I
 called to her with a laugh, “We’re going to need a pier. haha”
On almost exactly the opposite side of the island sat En3
Yodal and EN1 Cair sat on the beach talking and throwing rocks
 into the surf. Cair said, “I think they sank us on purpose…”and
 laughed, “there some things that went bad.” and he giggled.
Kelly Yodal asked, “Why…why would they do that?” Cair
 replied, “When these woman got here some of us got our asses
 chewed, we were sayin’ they’d have to come up to the Paul F
Foster’s standard. and the admirals jumped down our
 throats…sayin’ ‘up to the standard…up to the standard!!??’ it
 seems we’d been reporting we weren’t ready for operation
 number four four seven two something or other, something or
 other…we all voted to stay ‘not ready’ hahaha, it said it might
 hasten our deployment date.” Kelly laughed and said, “Fuck
 them then I wouldn’t want to deploy sooner for some bullshit
 op.” Cair said, “Ya…Ya, I know what you mean. But they gave
 that op. a name.” and again he trailed off into hysterical
 laughter. Kelly smiled and asked while laughing at Cair’s
 hysteria, “What was it…blue eagle, red beagle…Silver talon.”
Cair still laughing uncontrollably rolling around on the ground
 said, “No! Hahaha, better than that.”  Yodal asked in all
 sincerity, “Was it a sub?” Cair started coughing he was laughing
 so hard and managed to grunt out, “No…even better. It was
 operation…hahaha….operation Desert Shield!!! Hahaha” Yodal

went pale and started sweating and uttered, “Oh, shit…we are
 screwed.”
Gsm3 Kresley paced back in forth near the pentagon and
 there in the sand it actually created a small trench. A full-fledged
 brawl had broken out on the beach, Hauldbalm sat back and
 watched what he referred to as a cat fight, and once Charlie
McCree tore Clarksons tee-shirt revealing her black silk bra
 everyone would have referred to that as a cat fight. Orbly had
 thrown mulner into the ocean and everytime she came out of the
 water he shoved her back in. Philip was throwing mud at the
 walls yelling, “Fuck you retarded officers! You dirty slack
 jawed red necked dog shit eating horse dick sucking monkey nut
 busting Khaki wearing Fagtards” Dave was taken back, even for
 a sailor stringing together that many insults into one was quite
 an accomplishment, he had awarded medals for less. Just as he
 dazed off trying to remember the reason for the last navy
 achievement medal he issued he was blindsided with a tackle
Larry Linscoe who kept yelling at him, “You fuck, you fuck, go
 fuck you, you fuck!” Scott Tinnel was beating Swishzel with a
 wet tee-shirt wrapped around his fist. And Washam and Ens.
Braun were attempting to strangle each other in such a way that
 it looked almost like a make out session. Dave struck Larry
Linscoe in the temple ringing his cathedral bell and unleashing
 the bats. After which Dave ran into the brush line to wait out the
 strife, and Larry started to mumble to his third grade teacher that
 he had done his homework but his dad needed it for work.
As I sat on a log trying to paddle with my legs and arms in
 unison with Tommi Gruble with her crotch was right in my face
 as we attempted to paddle around ensuring we had control of the
‘boat’ the landing further down the island, came crashing down.
Sn Syre came running down the beach toward the rocks jutting

out dividing the beach between the landing side and our work
 camp site with a bloody nose and a handful of brown hair.
Tommi sat up changing the balance of the boat, I uttered as I
 tried to stabilize the logs by shifting my position, “I think I was
 better off with your honey pot in my face.” Tommi looked at me
 with her usual look of disappointment and pointed at Syre and
 said, “What the hell happened?” I replied, “I think it’s time to
 figure out if getting this thing back to shore is going to break our
 necks in the waves.”
We landed the boat and the lashings loosened slightly, we’d
 have to review our methods. But Syre was trembling and
 looking at us asking, “Can you get us out of here?” she had
 nearly killed herself trying to climb over the rocks that jugged
 out of the brush; I replied, “No” she then asked, “Are you just
 crazy too?” I responded, “Who’s hair is that?” she then asked
 with a scoff, “How long were the two of you out there?” I then
 asked her, “Syre…what’s going on over at the landing?” She
 retorted, “You weren’t over there? They’re all over there and
 they went fucking nuts. Artimus had us build him a fort he calls
 the fucking pentagon!” I looked at her distressed demeanor and
 said, “We’ll take you over to the boiler” Syre said, “Boiler? is
 that where that water came from? Do you have more?” I
 responded, “It’s a work detail and this damn thing is supposed to
 help us fish.” She sprint over and helped us pull it further onto
 the beach as she said, “I’m good to work, especially if I get food
 and water.” Tommi interjected, “That’s what we’re working
 towards.”
We headed back to the work camp with Syre in tow the
 blood from her nosed had dried on her face. We had left the
 pontoon boat where it lay. Michael saw Syre’s face and the
 blood and said, “I guess you’re here to help with the fishing

net.” Syre shook her finger and replied, “That’s exactly it!” and
 sat down where the net was being woven then asked as
 pleasantly as possible, “Do we have any water left?” Michael
 replied, “Ya, you need to use one of the reeds as a straw.” Syre
 responded, “Okay.” and she went over and drank some water.
Mike watched her drink and commented, “We are making more
 now but we’re still rationing, do they need more over there?”
Syre finished drinking and said, “I didn’t take too much, but you
 probably don’t want to head over there right now…they’re
 killing each other.” There was a look of dread from everyone
 there and I commented, “Ahh…ya, we really have to wait that
 out. I had shore patrol in japan and did some security work in
 great lakes; if they are rioting we have to wait until they are
 exhausted.” Mike added, “Especially since we’re unarmed.”
We sat working on our tasks as quietly as possible. Mitch
 sat kneeling at the fire box of the boiler that would need fresh
 wood first and I commented, “The charcoal will burn hotter and
 cleaner than the wood. We need to make paper and wrap the
 charcoal in it.” Mitch didn’t look over to me he just shook his
 head and waved his hand. After a long pause with us still
 tending to our tasks, Mitch said, “I don’t know how to make
 paper and how many dead?”  
Cair and Yodal started to walk back to the landings tossing
 rocks and drift wood into the ocean waves as they walked. They
 came around an out cropping of trees and saw the crew standing
 at odds, one crew member would rush at the other crowd and the
 crowd would shove that person back. It looked like a drinking
 game from scottsland. Captain Artimus walked out between the
 two crowds and said, “I think we’ve had enough violence for
 today, now a good tussle can…” just then the two groups joined

lifting Dave up and rushed him over to the crashing surf and
 threw him in.    

Chapter Six
The Green Reed Cabana
With Syre having joined us it was definitely time to
 build the cabana. Our workforce was growing and soon we
 would be fishing Hawaiian style, spear and net from a pontoon
 canoe. Michelle Syre was an attractive blonde girl with a sway
 to her hips and beautiful breasts, she had managed to keep her
 tee-shirt as well as her dungaree shirt, she did make the mistake
 of losing her socks, and her boots wafted with a definite odor. It
 was a shame, a week on the ocean without so much as a
 floatation device and she had managed to keep her boots, but
 with the loss of her socks her boots were just an excuse to
 develop athlete’s foot.
After being out on the water Tommi and I were
 zonked. I laid down near the net work and there was the odor of
Michelle’s feet. I sniffed around trying to figure out what had
 died nearby and she noticed the facial expression. Michelle said
 with a giggly smile as she wound threads and strings, “Can you
 smell my boots? Disgusting isn’t it?” She laughed and reached
 into her boot to scratch her foot. I said, “Don’t worry about it”
 and yawned. Then she scratched my nose with the same fingers
 she had scratched her feet with and laughed. So I lunged up and
 started tickling her, she tickled me back saying, “You know you
 liked it.” I was coughing badly and gagging and replied, “I liked
 it so much, I’m gonna’ wash your feet for you!” She giggled and
 said, “Okay.” as she blushed. I took of her boots and threw them
 as far away as I could and carried her down to the wet sand and

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