The Old Man will be Ordering the Linehandlers Topside in Ten

[Ed Toner]

Another sea story from my favorite sea story teller.



The Old Man will be Ordering the Linehandlers Topside in Ten

by Bob 'Dex' Armstrong

Remember that? You would crawl topside into a world of fresh air and salt
spray. You knew how
much time you had by how far you were from Thimble Shoals Light… Or the
position angles on Old
Point Comfort, the light on the Cavalier Hotel or the concrete
emplacements that made up Fort Wool.

After the Topside Gang popped up out of fore and aft hatches, the Leading
Seaman made his way
along the deck, busting open the line lockers with his "T" wrench.
Controlling the "T" wrench was
the symbol of the first step… The first rung on the ladder leading to the
level of absolute power that
would someday culminate in being crowned as the Chief of the Boat. The COB
was for all intents and
purposes the omnipotent Kahn of the After Battery Huns and assorted
Mongols berthing in other
locations in his cylindrical iron kingdom.

The "T" wrench was a device that ranked on par with the scepter of ancient
Babylonian kings or the
power of the headsman's axe in the Tower of London.

"OK, ladies, don't take all gahdam night… Break out your lines and fake
'em down."

"Hey Conaty, knock open that pressure locker and haul some heavies up
here."

"Aye, Bwana… Anything you say, boss man."

"Hey Jack, when we get in, you wanna haul your worthless but up to Bells
and get a hamburger and
a fast snoot load?"

"Naw… Got the damn duty. Going to stay aboard… And hang around in the
maneuvering room while
they toss in a charge."

"How 'bout you, Peto?"

"Yeah, if you'll spot me to a couple of pitchers till the Disbursing
Officer shows up tomorrow with our
blue checks."

"Knock off the bull****, darlings… And wet down your heavies."

"Christ awmighty… It'll be damn near 45 minutes until we round NOB and
head up the damn river…"

"Hey Horsefly… Toss that sonuvabitch off up near the bow planes. If that
sonuvabitch gets wrapped
around a shaft or caught up in a screw, you'll follow it like you were
shot out of a damn catapult."

"Hey, loan me your "T" wrench so I can test the ******head and the after
capstan."

(Wonder what they call the forward capstan now? You can bet your thirteen
button blues, the term
'******head' has been replaced with a far more acceptable term.)

When boats come alongside today at midnight I'll bet you don't hear,

"Look alive… Throw a couple of turns around the ******head and take in the
slack on number one."

"Hey Stuke… That another boat forward?"

"Yeah Horsefly… Looks like either the Cutlass or Grampus."

"He's sure as hell making liberty turns."

"Okay gents, we'll be rounding carrier row shortly. Take a good look at
the high-priced Navy… Look
at the size of those bastards… You could blow the bottom out of one of 'em
and it would probably
take two weeks for the sonuvabitch to sink, like getting rid of Chicago by
digging gopher tunnels."

"Naw… Those damn hanger decks are just empty space. You slap a torpedo in
the elevator on one of
those monsters and it would fill up like a toilet tank."

"You know for idiot E-3s, you guys sure are experts on a whole lot of crap
you know absolutely
nothing about."

"Stow it… Nobody ever listens to or pays attention to anybody racking aft
of the mess decks."

"Hey Chief… There's your old lady standing on the pier. Anyone ever tell
you what a lucky bastard
you are? They didn't turn out a lot of gals as faithful as Alice… You got
a real keeper."

"Put your lines over when you can…"

Heavies flew through the air and bounced across the deck of the outboard
boat in the nest. Then you
bent on the smaller line to your mooring hawser and watched it snake it's
way across the expanse
between the two boats. Upon arrival, some nameless, faceless jerk just
like you dropped the spliced
eye in the line over a cleat. You tossed two turns around the socially
unacceptable, named hydraulic
rotational device and watched the distance slowly decrease until you were
home, resting tank tops
to tank tops.

"Double up all lines… Secure the anchor detail."

"Attention all hands… Would the lucky ape who had 23 in the anchor pool,
see the exec and collect
his magic beans."

"Would the mail runner in section three muster in control. Liberty for
sections one and two
commences immediately. If your ID card does not have a photo of you
sporting a beard, shave it off…
Any gear adrift in two hours will be found in the lucky bag auction
Monday… The Captain wishes to
remind all hands that the speed limit through Glouster Virginia has been
set to fleece the fleet. Mail
call in ten minutes."

"Hey any you guys on Sirago spare a smoke for an American bluejacket home
from the sea?"

Submarine sailors are among the most generous people on the planet. I
never saw a lad who didn't
share his smokes or deny another boatsailor access to his beer pitcher.
How many times did you call
it a night in some gin mill and toss what was left between you and payday
in the middle of the table
and say,

"Take care of the barmaid and invest the rest in a couple of pitchers."

---------------------------------------

"Hey below."

"Yo…"

"How'bout getting a couple of non-quals run up some hot coffee."

"You got it."

How many nights? Hell, you were home… Your brow attached you to the rest
of the known world…
The showers were open… Fresh milk was coming aboard… Turn on the porch
light and put out the
cat…

You were home.