The shower felt wonderful. Despite their situation, each of the mayors took advantage of the nightly shower. The water was cool, providing a brief break from the heat. For Patricia Hammond, the cold water seemed to bring her back to life. She was getting used to sleeping in sweltering heat, and the days in the cell without even a breath of wind could rob a person of their very soul. But the simple shower caused her to come back from the dead. She allowed the water to cascade over her head and down her sides. The soap they had been given barely removed the sweat and stink from the day, but it was enough. While the water ran, she could escape from that dreary place and return to the life she had known. She found herself remembering the house she and Roger had lived in. It had been hers before they had met and when he had returned from the war she had brought him into it. They had been married in the tropical garden that was their back yard. She remembered standing there among the palms and fruit trees holding his hands as he had pledged his eternal love. Most of all, she remembered his smiling face. Through the war they had written letters to each other. Once, he had included a photo someone had taken of him standing on the bridge of the Iowa wearing his new admiral’s star. It was that same boyish smile. After the Iowa had docked, she had been escorted to the ship’s bridge. He was wearing that smile when he placed the ring on her finger. Whenever she did something he approved of, she had been rewarded with that smile. Since they were married, they had become more than husband and wife, they had become the closest of friends.
She was standing in the shower when the guard tapped the door, bringing her back to reality. Patricia let out a small sigh. At least she had gotten through another day. Shutting off the water, she toweled off with the rough cotton towel they had been given and put on her clothes. Holding them in front of her, they looked terrible, but were relatively clean since they were allowed to wash the clothes every third day.
After only a minute, she opened the shower room door and walked out to the young guard. This one smiled at her and motioned that she could precede him out of the building and across to her cell. She smiled back and mouthed ‘gracias,’ before stepping past him and reaching for the door.
The two exited the room and began walking across the graveled yard. They were suddenly brought to a halt by the sergeant, who called out from his doorway. He slowly staggered up to Patricia, looking at her with a grin on his face. “I see you have bathed. That is good,” he said with a slightly slurred voice. Patricia smelled alcohol on the man’s breath.
“You are a very fine looking woman for an American,” he said as his eyes roamed over her. “You should be treated better.”
Patricia stared at the man in disbelief. Somehow she had expected he might have tried something sooner, but here it was, none the less. “I am being treated just fine, thank you,” she said as she tried to walk past him.
He stopped her by grabbing her arm. “No, I know how a woman should be treated,” he said as his other hand came up and rubbed her cheek. The smell of the alcohol was getting much heavier. “As a matter of fact, if you cooperate, I can show you a great deal of pleasure,” he said as his hand slid down her chest and wrapped around her breast.
It happened so fast the guard never saw it coming. Taking a page from the Three Stooges, she took two fingers and forcefully poked both of his eyes. As his hands reached to protect his now wounded eyes, Patricia’s right leg swung with all its might between his legs and into the sergeant’s crotch.
The sergeant dropped like a stone to his knees. His face was a mask of agony. His eyes were pinched shut and there was blood running out the side of one of them. At the same time, both his hands were grasping at his crotch trying to stem the pain. He was breathing in gulps of air like a runaway steam engine. The young guard quickly grabbed her and pulled her toward the cell. At the same time she called out, “You will learn never to manhandle a woman. When my husband gets here, you will be the first to die,” she said as she was pulled through the door and pushed into the cell. The young guard closed the cell door saying, “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what he will do.” Then he said to Manuel Donado, “Keep her out of sight for now.”
Out in the courtyard the sergeant began screaming, “I will see that you die! All of you! You will pay for this. Every last one of you!” he shouted as he was pulled by some of the others into his quarters. The others could hear him ranting behind the closed doors.
Donado had them bring her to the far corner of the room where he took her hands, “Are you all right?” he asked.
Patricia had fire in her eyes. “I’m okay. The dirty bastard. He got what he deserved,” she said angrily, pulling her clothing into place.
“Uh oh,” said Roberts stepping up beside Donado. “Girl, what happened?”
“That cretin tried to molest me. He told me that if I cooperated, he would show me a great deal of pleasure. Then he grabbed one of my breasts,” she almost shouted.
There was a giggle from the doorway and everyone turned to see the young soldier chuckling to himself. Donado walked over to the man. “What happened? She said he attacked her,” he said in Spanish.
The young soldier nodded. “Yes, it is true,” he said. “Then she poked the sergeant in the eyes and kicked him in the balls.” He began to laugh. He was soon joined by several of the people in the room who understood Spanish. Once it was translated for the others, everyone was having a good chuckle.
“Damn, girl, you do have a mean streak,” said Roberts as she started to laugh herself.
Donado almost had tears running down his cheeks. He looked back at Patricia who was still a little angry. “You did warn me you could kick,” he said with a grin.
Now even Patricia began to laugh. Every few seconds they could hear the sergeant scream some other obscenity from across the courtyard and the laughter would begin again. Finally the young guard motioned for them to quieten down. “It is best that we do not anger him further,” he said to the group. Then he looked back at Patricia and gave her a thumb’s up. She smiled back at him while the others began to return to their sleeping mats. The night was still oppressively hot, but Patricia felt like the world had lifted from her shoulders. She lay back on her mat and savored her victory. She was certain of one thing — her husband would be proud.
The message had been received a little after midnight. The Venezuelan Air Force was going to exercise its rights and conduct a bombing exercise near the Allied task force beginning at 9 am the next morning. Washington had immediately relayed the information to Admiral Hammond and the Brazillian Admiral. It was obvious that the Venezuelans wanted to give a little show of force and that the Allies were to simply watch and not respond.
Hammond looked over at Rhodes who was reading the message. “What do you think?” he asked. He saw Captain Rhodes shake his head in the dim red glow of his flashlight.
“I guess they want to shake our tree a little. We may just watch, but I’m doing it at general quarters,” he said with a grin.
“I talked to Admiral Oso. He’s going to have a few planes up just in case. I’m going to have our guys at Condition Three at least. I’ll bring the Kings Mountain up close in the morning, just in case,” Hammond said. “You still do the pre-fires every morning?”