Cazanavette returned to the table with two beers. “All done?”
“Yes, Frank, thanks,” Russo said, standing up. “Stop by before you fly out, won’t you, Jack?”
“Sure thing, Sammy. Thanks for the info. We’ll be seeing you.”
As Russo walked off, Tremain thought about Ireland’s behavior the day before. Ireland probably had a hard-enough moral dilemma sending him out on that last patrol and now he wanted to replace him before this next mission. Ireland knew that he had not seen Judy in over a year. Now Mackerel, the new glory boat of ComSubPac, would be going on a mission from which it would probably never return, and he would be spared, just like with the Seatrout.
Tremain glanced across the table at Cazanavette. He was enjoying his beer, oblivious to what Russo had just told him. Cazanavette and the officers and men of Mackerel had no idea what they were being chosen for. They had no idea that these next two weeks in port would probably be their last. They would go to sea, thinking it was just another routine patrol, having newfound confidence from their recent success. The new captain, Dave Stillsen, would do as Tremain had done and try to mold the crew to his own ways of running a ship. Mackerel’s men would have to adjust, again. Like Tremain, Stillsen would have the same rough times in the first few weeks. Given time, the crew would eventually settle in to his style of leadership.
Unfortunately, on this patrol, they may not have the time, Tremain thought. Cazanavette was a good XO, but he would not be able to cover for the inevitable errors in judgment Stillsen would make. Stillsen, being a green commanding officer with little or no battle experience, would take even longer to meld with the crew. That crucial bond between captain and crew might not fully form until the second or even the third patrol.
Although he had no idea what this new secret mission was, Tremain suddenly felt the overwhelming certainty that Mackerel would never return from this one. And all those smiling faces he had grown to love and respect, including Cazanavette’s, would perish without a trace in some unknown Japanese waters. Tremain remembered how he had felt when the news of Seatrout’s loss reached him. He could still feel it.
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Cazanavette asked innocently. “What was all that about, anyway?”
Strangely, all Tremain could think about was Cazana-vette’s children back in Nebraska.
“Nothing,” Tremain said. “Let’s just forget it.”
Then Tremain lit a cigarette, his first in quite a while, and took a long hard drag.
Chapter 14
“You're going to love this place, Ryan,” Salisbury said as they walked along the sidewalk of Kapiolani Boulevard and turned on to McCully Street, their casual pants and loose Hawaiian shirts blending in with the rest of the uniformed and non-uniformed foot traffic. Wright followed Salisbury not knowing where they were going. After getting off duty that morning he had gone straight to the hotel for several hours’ sleep, only to be awoken by Salisbury banging on his door in the late afternoon. Wright had reluctantly followed him, and after several visits to various bars near the hotel, Salisbury suddenly got an idea to go someplace different.
Honolulu was alive this evening. The large number of transplanted military personnel that had come to the island since the war started had been a boon to the local economy and a merchant’s dream. The street vendors and shop owners were out to make money each night, and tonight was no exception. With storefronts open and thousands of little trinkets on the display tables brought out to the sidewalk, they were eager to relieve any sailor or marine of his meager monthly pay. There were other things for sale too. Prostitutes lined the streets ready to satisfy the urges of the sex-starved men.
Wright and Salisbury came to a two-story building occupying a street corner. The building looked rather drab compared to the others on McCully Street and had no signs or other markings to indicate that it was anything other than a warehouse of some sort.
“What’s this place, Joe?” Wright asked, confused.
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Salisbury said with an evil grin. “Come on.”
Salisbury approached the drab door and knocked twice. A burly Hawaiian opened the door and exchanged a few words with him before letting both men in. Wright was shocked to see that the inside of the club drastically contrasted with its outward appearance. The large dimly lit room was packed with people. The club centered around an island-type bar and two three-foot circular stages, which were surrounded by young American men in civilian clothes and lots of fairly good-looking women in tight-fitting flowery dresses. Music emanated from a record machine in the far corner and a young woman in various states of undress danced on each stage, taunting the howling men with their undulating bodies. The many women in the club were of Hawaiian, Asian, and American descent, though most were locals, and they wore lots of make-up. Overtly flirting with the excited and sweaty men, the women were obviously professionals and Wright did not need Salisbury to tell him that they were ladies of the evening.
“This place is for enlisted only, so keep it under you hat that we’re officers, okay?” Salisbury whispered.
They moved to a corner of the room that afforded them a good view of one of the stages, and a middle-aged, large-breasted waitress rubbed up against them offering them beers. Salisbury paid her for them, mostly to make her go away.
“Since we didn’t get laid the other night,” he shouted to Wright over the noise, “I thought we’d come here.”
Wright nodded and took a drink. Two or three women had already brushed by him with their hips or breasts and it was driving his senses wild. He wanted to just grab one and let all his sexual energy loose on her.
Just then he noticed a commotion near the bar. A small man, obviously drunk and out of control, was confronting a rather larger man who was leaning against the bar with his back to him. The larger man was firmly sandwiched between two groping Hawaiian girls and seemed to be ignoring the drunken man altogether.
“Holy shit,” Salisbury said. “Isn’t that Anderson?”
Wright caught a glimpse of the drunken man’s face between the peering heads in front of him. It was indeed Anderson, the man who had been missing since they had pulled into port. Wright was stunned by the discovery but even more taken aback when the man at the bar finally turned around and faced him. It was Tee.
Tee was dressed in civilian attire and his face was red like Wright had seen it that night at the officer’s club when he was drunk. Wright watched as Tee said a few words to Anderson, which Anderson must not have agreed with because he responded with a wild inaccurate punch, which Tee easily blocked. Tee quickly had Anderson’s arms behind his back and passed him off to the club’s bouncers, who had quickly converged on the scene.
Anderson struggled with the big Hawaiians all the way to the door, shouting obscenities in Tee’s direction. Tee simply shrugged and turned back to the bar, firmly planting one hand on each of the two girls’ round asses.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Wright asked.
“I don’t know,” Salisbury answered, apparently amused, “but neither one of those girls looks like Margie.”
“We better go help Anderson, Joe. As much as I want to do every girl in the place, he’ll probably get into more trouble if we let him get too far.”
Salisbury begrudgingly agreed to go and they exited the club to find Anderson sitting on the sidewalk leaning against the wall where the bouncers had left him, oblivious to the world around him. Blood trickled from his lip and onto his shirt and it was obvious that the bouncers had given him a few parting shots before they had let him go. He reeked of alcohol, body odor, and urine, and Wright had to plug his nose when they got close to him.