New Homeport Island (3 page)

reconsider. Personally, I had no understanding of how they came
 to believe that that level of authority existed in an admiral’s
 position. Their apparent naiveté was compounded by the
 unusually high concentration of military veterans in this civilian
 work place. I would later learn most service members that
 complete uneventful service never have the first clue about how
 things really worked.
We first informed them of their right to protest was not
 exercisable on a military installation. “Since when…” an angry
 man shouted not two inches from my face, “…no, since when. I
 was in the marine corps…” I interjected, “You were in the
Marine Corps and you believe an admiral can shut down this
 base and shut down its budget, on his own authority; and that
 civilians can bring a picket line style protest right on base;
 interfering with the operations of the United States military?” I
 asked in a very authoritative manner.    
He replied in angry confusion, “Well…no. Hey, but we’re
 the United States military!”
I looked him up and down obviously assessing him and his
 statement and asked, “Do you remember how happy you were
 when you got out? Huh, no more working for idiots just because
 they out rank you? Having no say even in your own personal
 life?”
“Your god damn right I do!” he yelled and I calmly replied,
“And, the reason those things changed is because you are no
 long the military.”
With a tone of defeat, having realized he was speaking to
 active duty that was still tasked like some kind of slave he
 respond, “Damn it. I just need a job”
“The protest…” I said calmly as a representative of an
 organization larger than just my life, “Must happen off base.

This petition you have passed around going to an admiral is
 hopeless, it has to go to your district congressmen or senator;
 otherwise you would be giving it to some other districts
 representative and Massachusetts will not likely understand how
 they are relevant to a navy base closing in California.”
A middle aged woman with all the wear and tear of having
 worked as a wielder leaned forward pushing her face out
 amongst the crowd and said, “So we just give up then…is that
 what you would do?”
I replied, “Thank you for being so passive aggressive it’s as
 though you are a member of this crew…No, you don’t give up. I
 am however warning you that it has to be done lawfully and
 getting the base to stay open is literally an act of congress.”
“An act of congress…” She retorted.  I replied, “Yes, the
 appropriations committee, sub-committee for base closure.”  
To which, with a dismissive turn of the head she said, “I
 think that’s actually the senate honey, but I get what you mean.”
At that point they disbanded, but then that was the ones in
 front of a large crowd. Those in the back of the crowd were less
 inclined to be intellectual about things and violent outburst hit
 the crowd. Fortunately base security had been on scene for about
 twenty minutes.
A loud male voice erupts from the scuffle, “So the military
 tells us what to do now? What are we at, martial law!?” To
 which a security officer of the base, a second class petty officer
 loudly voice in reply, “Martial law means military rule…this is a
 military base; a navy base and you have been under martial law
 on this base as long as you have worked here.”
Those directly in the scuffle were arrested by base security
 and detained until they calmed down at which point they were
 fired. The protestors move just off base to the other side of the

gate. Many of them called out to people they knew still on base
 and asked them to tell their bosses, whom they specifically
 named, that they quit.
Our days in long beach were not entirely uneventful.
 I went out to the pier and stood there, the snow was up to
 my knees. The phone call to the governor’s office went well and
 our personnel chief was onboard and faxing the scenario to the
 governor’s office. The weather hadn’t been this bad in a decade,
 even the locals were awestruck. Once again I wondered how far
 back in social and technical development I had slipped by being
 transferred to another duty station; I often joked that it was a
 matter of time travel serving in the navy.  
“The fax went through, guess were going to martial law..?”
 said Athena, she continued, “Shitty day to have duty”. I struck a
 reserved pose, “I would rather have duty today snowed in then
 the day after tomorrow when it will likely be out of the
 way…and, it’s not martial law it’s just legal stuff.” I said.
Athena had been standing messenger of the watch since 7:45am;
 it was now about 2pm. She was cute and friendly and responded
 well to my flirtatious attitude so long as there was no one else
 around to think anything of it. “Well, I’d be making a snowman
 or snow angel or something…they were out here earlier having a
 snowball fight, even the X.O.”
I looked at her with an amorous smile and said, “At least
 someone is having fun.”  
She asked, “What do we have to do with all of this legal stuff
 you’re doing?” and she gestured with her hands as though she
 was rolling her hand in coil of yarn.
I replied, “Restoring electricity, clearing roads, and getting
 everyone here to work; it’s mostly national guard territory
 though.”

“Oh...” she replied with a hint of disappointment.
I said, “You could call for a working party to clear the pier with
 whatever we have that’s close to a snow shovel.”
She looked at me with a smirk and grabbed my bicep and said,
“sounds like good job for you…your only a third Rob. Unless
 you have something better to do..?”
I responded slightly more authoritatively, “You mean like all
 this legal researching and phone calls, and determining
 jurisdictions and legal obligations and paper work I’m doing
 now?”
She responded as though I didn’t get the joke or didn’t fall for
 the ploy and said, “Whatever”. I followed her up the steps and
 across the brow back up to the ship.
We were waiting for confirmation of the orders and
 instructions we planned to send the National Guard and the local
 police, as well as the authorization to access and use the county
 snow plows and the authority to effect repairs to power lines and
 switching stations belonging to the electric company. As I left I
 said, “I’ll be down in central.”
Branson was standing petty officer of the watch and asked
Athena, “What was he talking about?” She replied, “Lyon’s
 doing a bunch of legal work for the captain to get the roads
 cleared.”
Branson laughed, “Nice choice they hate each other.”
Athena replied, “I wish they got along better Lyon’s a nice
 guy…” and with a shrug she added, “but, he’s an engineer.”  
Branson was a first class boatswain’s mate and the leading
 petty officer of the deck division. The first class petty officers
 were to function as foremen and Branson was one of the few
 that played that roll correctly; many others thought they had

obtained a rank which signified they weren’t supposed to
 actually work anymore.  
“So what do you have deck doing today?” Athena asked.
Branson replied, “Don’t start that Williams; I run my crew.”  
Athena pulled her panties out of her crotch and with a sigh
 said, “Well, if Lyon’s stuff goes through we’ll be coordinating
 natural disaster relief efforts with multiple agencies and I don’t
 want to look like a stupid bitch when they come to arrest him for
 going to martial law and that’s what the captain said he would
 do.”
Branson was startled and asked, “Does he know that?”  
Athena respond, “The captain said not to say anything and
 honestly back in long beach they butted heads then too. This
 time the captain said, ‘I guess GSM3 Lyon knows what to do....’
 but no third class knows what to do...”
Branson replied, “Stay out of this Williams… Lyon may
 know what to do; I’ve been on bridge watch and the captain is
 just a guy”  
With a degree of irritation Athena responded, “You mean
‘just a Captain’ Branson…I’m gonna go get a soda” as she
 walked away Branson shouted to her, “Hey, Athena I used to be
 just like you…then I grew up. Oh, and I am a first class”.  
Athena yelled back, “I wasn’t saying you didn’t know what
 to do…” Branson waved her off and she headed down to get a
 soda from the vending machines on the main deck near the ships
 store.
The Officer of the deck was the ships supply senior chief
 and he poked his head out from the midship’s quarter deck to the
 podium at the gang plank. He asked Branson, “She being surly
 again?”

Branson responded clearly and calmly as possible, “No,
 senior…” and with a degree of youth demeanor gestured with a
 shrug of his shoulders and continued, “…It’s just me and
 her…it’s a black thing.”
Senior chief Walson tends to turn very pale when things
 like that are said and looking white as a sheet he said, “…Oh,
 okay” Soon after that he received a call from the personnel
 office, the reply fax had been received.
The personnel man Chief petty officer Casius walked up to
 the quarter deck to hand the sign and verified orders to the
 officer of the deck. “There it is…” She said, “martial law. What
 the hell does he think he’s playing at!”
Senior Chief Walson read over the papers. Chief Casius
 growled, “Look at all the authority he now has…and it’s on his
 name not the captains because he called for special deputization
 by the D.O.D.!”
Walson replied, “Well, that may not sound right but there it
 is.” and in anger and disbelief Casius retorted, “He’s just a third
 class! Why would anyone take anything he says seriously? I
 know the captain doesn’t.”  
Branson interjected from just outside the quarter deck doors
 at the gang plank, “That may be why we fail so many
 engineering certifications chief.”  Casius moved to make eye
 contact with Branson and said, “The captain does those. He
 decides if we pass or fail.”
Branson shrugged and said, “Look chief, first classes talk
 and Hudlow, Lyon’s first class says that we end up failing after
Lyon has already shown them how to do it by the manual and
 then the captain says he isn’t going to do it Lyon’s way.”
Casius replied, “Chiefs talk too. Well, let him know to start
 his way down his war path. Oh, wait I’ll do it.” Chief Casius

took the mic for the ships general announcing system, the 1MC,
 and keyed it, “For the information of all hands, Lyon is on the
 war path. Gsm3 Lyon your orders are on the quarter deck.” Just
 then she looked over at the OOD and the Petty officer of the
 watch expecting a reassuring satisfied look, instead she saw
 shock. She giggled and said, “I can’t believe I just did that.”  
As soon as I arrived I used the 1MC myself, “This is Lyon
 on the quarter deck…I am not on the warpath, we do however
 have orders regarding the weather and reestablishing road
 service and electrical service. I am, currently specially deputized
 by the department of defense. That is all.”  
After reviewing the orders to make sure there were no
 changes in the script, the game of phone tag began. First was the
National Guard; the governors’ office had already made
 introductory phone calls and they were awaiting my call. We
 had to acquire some runway clearing gear from the Marine
Corps. We messaged them from Combat information central.
They replied, “C’mon it isn’t that bad” with a laugh and
 continued, “We’ll get it over there.” As it turned out ‘runway
 clearing gear’ was a couple of bulldozers, but the flatbed truck
 that got it to us was larger than standard hauling trucks. They
 were to drop them off with the local nation guard unit and a
‘contingent’ which we referred to as a ‘detail’ from the base.
“How soon do these have to be back?” National guard
Sergeant Kleason asked. Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Blake
 responded, “Hell, it’s the navy’s game. Don’t know why they
 aren’t out here. I hear some E-4 is pulling strings…” Blake took
 on an intimidating demeanor and continued, “Can’t wait to see
 those strings break, we’re freezing our butts off out here.”
Kleason replied, “So just don’t worry about it then?” Blake

responded, “No…ahh, we’ll probably be sent to pick them up.
Good luck”
Captain Artimus arrived at the quarter deck and asked
Branson, “So…I had to come in because I couldn’t make it in?
Where’s Lyon’s chief?”  Branson replied, “Not sure his chief
 made it in either sir, he’s been working with the X.O.” Captain
Artimus stood there waiting for something other than disgust or
 rage to be conjugated in his head, he glanced up to the bridge
 wing thinking he had never seen this level of anal retentiveness
 in his whole career and having made captain he should have
 been spared any exposure at all. He then looked back to BM1
Branson and said, “I want to see Lyon’s chief by the end of the
 day.”
Captain Artimus headed up to his stateroom and the
 messenger of the watch Athena Williams called for the X.O. to
 contact the quarter deck over the 1MC, “Lieutenant commander
Mormus please contact the quarter deck.”  
The phone on the quarter deck rang, BM1 Branson
 answered, “Quarter deck” Mr. Mormus was on the other end,
“This is the X.O. what did you call me for?” Branson answered
 back, “You called us sir...”  Mormus was up in his stateroom
 with that answer his hand started trembling and he broke into a
 sweat. “…Sir?” Branson asked. Mormus took a deep breath to
 calm himself from his instant homicidal rage and said, “Look
 you fucking idiot, you called for me to contact the quarter deck
 over the 1MC…call me in my state room when you jackasses
 have found a clue.” and Mormus hung up.
Branson slowly walked over to Williams and said, “Did
 you pass something over the 1MC?”  Williams replied, “Ya, did
 the X.O. call?”  Branson starred at her nonchalantly going
 through the deck log and reading anything she could find. It was

that long slow ‘is this really happening’ stare. “Ahh, ya he
 did…” Branson uttered. Williams asked, “What’d he say?”
Branson responded, “Don’t…Don’t use the 1MC without letting
 me know.” Williams responded, “Geez, okay…what’d he say?”
Branson, still starring in shock replied, “Why don’t you call him
 and find out?” Williams said, “Okay.”
Williams picked up the phone inside the midship’s quarter
 deck and dialed the X.O.’s stateroom. The bakelite handset
 dangling in her hand, the ships technology was downright
 nostalgia inspiring in some systems, just plain antiquated in
 others. The X.O. answered, “This is the X.O.” Williams
 responded, “Hi, sir. It’s Athena on the quarterdeck. I was calling
 to let you know the captain made it in…looks like the National
Guard dropped by to give him a lift. And, he wants to see Chief
Carl by the end of the day.”  The X.O. replied,
“Williams…which watch are you standing?” She replied,
“Messenger of the watch sir, why?” The X.O. continued, “And
 which watch is Branson standing?” Williams said, “Petty officer
 of the watch.”  
The X.O. paused in contemplation the sound of his fingers
 drumming his desk top were briefly audible over the phone. He
 said, “Okay.” and abruptly hung up the phone. Williams heard
 the click and played with the tangled cord as the handset once
 again dangled in her hand, resting her legs by leaning on the
 angled desk top attached to the bulkhead. She softly sighed and
 looked back at the door to the brow, and called out to Branson,
“Hey, Branson…where’s the watchbill?” Branson replied, “It’s
 out here.”  
The snow flurries started up again but the heater running
 inside the quarter deck and their pea coats were enough, but then