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  CHAPTER ONE

  Fatso

  In the crew's quarters of LCU 1124, at sea in the Mediterranean, an acey-deucy game was in progress. Acey-deucy is the Navy version of backgammon and has been a popular game aboard ship since the days of sail. It is about 90 peroent luck and 10 percent skill. Tradition says that John Paul Jones was the first all-Navy champ at it, and that he claimed his opponents were all shot full of luck, whereas he played a scientific game. Every sailor since Jones's time has claimed the all-Navy title at one time or another and has made similar statements about his own and his opponents' games.

  This game was between Jughaid Jordan and Izzy Ginsberg. It was the final game of a tourney for the ship's championship and was being watched with interest by the rest of the crew, including John Patrick Gioninni, BM 1C, skipper of LCU 1124. A good-sized pot of money depended on this game, as well as many side bets by kibitzers. The game had reached the stage where the next two or three rolls would decide it.

  Jughaid surveyed the board, rattled the dice box, spoke to the bones, and threw them out on the table. Up popped an ace and a deuce.

  "Acey-deucy! ... the name of the game!" exclaimed Jughaid.

  This roll entitled him to move one square with one man, two with another, to take any pair of doubles he wanted, and to get another roll. It practically put the game on ice for him.

  "Shit," observed Ginsberg.

  "Watch your language, kid," said Cap'n Fatso. "There's sailors present."

  The sailors present were an improbable crew of fugitives from the draft. They could have served with distinction under Captain Kidd. First of all there was the skipper, Gioninni, known throughout the Sixth Fleet as Fatso. Fatso, a veteran of World War II and Korea, was nearing the end of a long and more or less faithful naval career. It had been very faithful indeed whenever bombs and torpedoes were exploding around him, but no more faithful than necessary in peacetime. He had swum away from three ships that got sunk under him in World War II, and had won two Navy Crosses. He figured he was now living on borrowed time and proposed to live the full life until the loan was called.

  Fatso was one of those all-round old-time sailor men who are fast disappearing from the modern mechanized Navy. If you needed somebody to run the fo'c'sle while making a flying moor on a battleship, or to secure the hanger deck for heavy weather, or to lower a boat in a rough sea, Fatso was your man. He was thoroughly familiar with all the tricks of wind and wave, in calms and in storms, and all the younger members of his crew figured he must have served as an apprentice boy with Noah in the ark.

  Fatso was thoroughly familiar with the U.S. Navy regulations and observed them meticulously, whenever his conduct came under the direct scrutiny of the high command. But he knew, of course, that the regulations were written for the guidance of those unfortunates who wouldn't know what to do if it wasn't all written down for them in a book. They were not intended to be taken literally by old-timers like himself. As far as Fatso was concerned, the regulations required him to be ready at all times to defend the United States at sea, and to do whatever the tactical situation in the heat of battle demanded, in his best judgment, to assist the United States and embarrass the enemy. But outside of that they were very flexible and depended on the exact situation which prevailed at the time.

  Fatso's interpretation of the regulations was sometimes questioned by narrow-minded junior officers who lived by the letter rather than the spirit of the book. But, whenever this happened and he was called to account by higher authority, Fatso would simply put on his dress blues with four rows of campaign ribbons and two Navy Crosses on his chest. The Admiral would always find it hard to believe his accusers.

  As Jughaid was trying to make up his mind what doubles he wanted to take for his acey-deucy roll, a hail came down over the voice tube from the bridge: "Sail ho!"

  "Where away?" called Fatso back up the tube.

  "Broad on the port bow." came the reply.

  "Can you make her out?" called Fatso, following the time-honored ritual for answering a lookout's hail.

  "It's a Russian cruiser," was the reply.

  "Well - here we go again," said Fatso. "We'll probably have another chicken game with this guy." He got up from the table and went out to the bridge.

  There was a Russian cruiser, her upper works just coming over the horizon broad on the port bow, crossing his course at right angles. The chicken game that Fatso referred to results from the fact that in a crossing situation the Russians pay no attention whatever to the rules of the road. When the Russian has the right of way, this presents no problem. You simply maneuver to keep out of his way and pass astern of him. But, when you have the right of way, it can result in a sticky situation. The rules of the road say that the ship having the right of way must hold its course and speed unless danger of collision "becomes imminent."

  So, if you have the right of way and the other fellow does not maneuver to avoid collision, it puts you on the spot. You are required to hold on until danger of collision becomes imminent. If you change course or speed too soon and a collision results, the court will hold you to blame. If you wait a little too long and get sunk, it will be small consolation to have the court find you were not to blame. This results in a situation where the ship that does not have the right of way can play a chicken game with the ship that does by just holding its course and speed until the last possible minute. From experience, Fatso knew that the Russians played this game with our ships all the time. In this case, he had the Russian on his port hand. So he was required to hold his course and speed and let the Russian go astern of him.

  Fatso watched the Russian for several minutes while her superstructure and hull came up over the horizon. Her bearing from him did not change, showing that if both held their present course and speed there would be a collision.

  "I'm going to see how far this guy will go this time," said Fatso to Satchmo, who had the wheel. "If we have to, we can always turn sharp enough to make him miss us, even when it's too late for him to do it."

  "Aye aye, Cap'n," said Satchmo.

  The Russian was loafing along at twelve knots, the same speed as LCU 1124.

  "Look at all them radar antennas they got topside." observed Satchmo. "I've never seen so many on one ship before."

  "Yeah," said Fatso. "Those are their missile-guidance radars. Thev got anti-aircraft missiles that are damned good. They're giving us a bad time with them out in Vietnam. You can see their missile mounts now, one forward and one aft."

  "Are those like our Polaris missiles, Cap'n?" asked Satchmo.

  "No. These are anti-aircraft missiles. They got a target-seeking gizmo that homes them right in on a plane. That's what they used to knock down our U-2 plane over Siberia a few years ago - remember?"

  "Yes sir," said Satchmo. "That was Gary Powers' plane."

  When the Russian got in to about a mile Fatso said, "Give him a blast on your whistle. One long blast."

  Satchmo pulled the whistle cord and let out a blast. This signal indicates that the ship making it intends to hold her course and speed and cross ahead. The other ship is supposed to answer with one blast, meaning she understands and will pass astern. No reply from the Russian.

  When the range got down to half a mile, Fatso had Satch sound another blast. Still no answer. Fatso took station at the pelorus on the port wing of the bridge, watching the bearing of the Russian carefully. It was not changing.

  "All right, Satch," said Fatso. "I've got the conn now. Steady as you go. Be ready to work fast if I tell you to."

  "Aye aye, Cap'n," said Satchmo. "Steady on course 180."

  They were rapidly approaching a situation now where one or the other had to do something or there would be a collision. Fatso could afford to hold on a litt
le longer than the Russian because his ship was smaller, handier, and could turn shorter. This advantage was, however, somewhat outweighed by the fact that if he held on too long he would probably get sunk, whereas the Russian would wind up with a small dent in his bow.

  Fatso held on as long as he dared. He was just about to order Satch to put his rudder hard right when puffs of steam came out of the Russian's whistle as it issued a series of sharp blasts. This is the danger signal under the international rules of the road and means that the ship making it is taking emergency action. Fatso glanced quickly at her stern and saw the water being churned into great white swirls as her screws began going full astern. The Russian's bearing began drawing aft very slowly. Fatso held his course and speed.

  By now the Russian was beginning to tower over LCU 1124. Black smoke was pouring out of both her stacks as the engineers threw the astern throttles wide open and the fire rooms struggled to keep up the steam pressure. Fatso still had time to throw his rudder hard over and make the ships miss. If he didn't - it would be mighty close.

  But Fatso had his pelorus on the Russian's bow and decided it was going to miss his stern by about six feet. He held on. Several heads popped out on the level below him, looking up at the Russian in grave concern.

  "Pay no attention to that guy," yelled Fatso at the spectators. "Just go on about your business as if nothing was happening."

  The flare of the cruiser's bow now came between Fatso and the cruiser's bridge. "He can't see us now," declared Fatso to Satch. "So far as he knows, he's going to hit us."

  "Yassah, Cap'n," said the wide-eyed Satch, who evidently agreed with the Russian.

  The cruiser's bow, visibly shaking from the engines going full astern, swept past Fatso and missed the stern by about ten feet. Fatso still insists that he passed under the jack staff on the cruiser's clipper bow. LCU 1124 continued on course south, speed 12, as if she had the whole ocean to herself.

  As LCU 1124 emerged to view from the cruiser's bridge on the port side, the commotion back at the stern around the screws stopped, a light started blinking on the bridge, and her yardarm suddenly was full of signal flags. Jughaid jumped to the signal light to answer the Russian but Fatso yelled at him, 'Pay no attention to him - just ignore the son of a bitch."

  In a few minutes the Russian stopped blinking, kicked his engines ahead, and proceeded on his way. As he was dropping over the horizon, Fatso remarked to the boys on deck, "I'll bet that Russian skipper is down in his cabin now, putting on a clean pair of drawers."

  LCU 1124 was a unique craft of the Sixth Fleet. Although presently on detached duty, she was not actually a commissioned ship of the U.S. Navy. She was a ship's boat, belonging to a landing ship dock, the USS Alamo. But she was the granddaddy of all ships' boats, a bargelike craft, 110 feet long, with a 25-foot beam, and displacing 200 tons.

  Ordinarily she was carried around inside the well deck of the Alamo, which housed a number of smaller amphibious craft. For landing, the Alamo would flood her well deck, open the huge stern gate, and these smaller craft would swim out and take the marines and their gear in to the beach. All of these craft run right up on the beach and lower ramps over which the marines swarm ashore.

  LCU 1124 was designed to carry the larger pieces of equipment that the marines like to take along when they go ashore to spread peace and good will, such as halftracks, tanks, and artillery pieces. She was a flat-bottomed craft powered by twin diesel engines. The whole forward part of the craft was storage space, with a ramp in the bow which was let down after beaching. The crew's quarters, engine room, and pilot house were in a structure aft. The crew's quarters consisted of the messroom, bunkroom, lounge, and galley. These were all in one compartment aft, running across the whole beam of the ship. The pilot house was on the level above this, and the engine room on the deck below. There were folding bunks along the sides of the crew's quarters, a mess table in the center, and the galley at one end. At the other end were the radio and TV sets and the Captain's cabin. This latter facility was just an oversized swab locker with a bunk, washstand, and small desk. But it did provide Fatso with the privacy which is traditional for the captain of a combat ship. Outside on the well deck were the head and washroom.

  Although LCU 1124 belonged to the Alamo which carried her pay accounts and records, she actually spent little time on board the larger ship. Except when engaged in landing exercises, she spent most of her time on detached duty, hauling odd bits of freight around the Med and delivering it to the ships of the Sixth Fleet and outlying shore stations. She was practically an independent command on detached duty, which was the reason why Fatso had gone to considerable lengths to get assigned to her. It had always been his ambition to command a Navy ship. Command of a commissioned ship is of course beyond the reach of an enlisted man. But command of LCU 1124 was the next thing to it.

  Fatso's second in command, and the only other old-timer aboard, was Scuttlebutt Grogan, Machinist's Mate 1C. He and Fatso had been shipmates in the war against the Japs and also in various wars with the MP's and Shore Patrol on all the waterfronts of the world. Scuttlebutt was chief engineer of this craft, and was one of those engineers who can tell what his machinery is doing just as well while sitting in the messroom as he can down below looking at the gauges. Any change in the rhythm of vibrations from his engines alerted him, just as a little squiggle on a seismometer tells a scientist all about a small earthquake taking place a thousand miles away. Between him and Fatso they had all the skills necessary to take a ship anywhere in the world in fair weather or in foul. That is, they did until the Navy started filling up the ships with computers and black boxes.

  To take care of the electronics equipment on board they had "Professor" Henry Cabot Worthington. The Professor was a spoiled brat from a prominent New England family. He was a dropout from school - from the second year of a post-graduate course in atomic physics at MIT, where he had been a brilliant student. But he had got into a hassle with his old man about a chorus gal they were both chasing and had simply walked out and joined the Navy. The Professor handled all scientific questions that came up on LCU 1124.

  Another college dropout in the crew was "Judge" Frawley. The Judge had been a student at Columbia Law School and one of the leaders of his class. However, when certain of his extra curricular activities had come to light, he decided to drop out - or more accurately, to bug out, hotly pursued by the faculty and the cops - and join the Navy. Naturally the Judge was the legal officer on board LCU 1124.

  Jughaid Jordan was a dropout from an earlier stage of the educational system. A hillbilly from Tennessee, he had dropped out of the sixth grade to help his pappy run his still. When the revenooers cracked down and put his pappy in jail, Jughaid lied a little bit about his age and joined the Navy.

  Webfoot Foley was their ordnance expert. He had been kicked out of the paratroopers and the Underwater Demolition Team because they claimed he took unnecessary chances. Webfoot claimed, with some justification, that anyone who joined either one of those outfits was taking an unnecessary chance. But Webfoot was an expert frogman who could handle all forms of explosives with great skill. His shipmates claimed that he had acquired this skill by working as an apprentice safecracker before joining the Navy. Webfoot denied this.

  Izzy Ginsberg was a former newspaper photographer from Brooklyn. Izzy had the distinction of being the only man ever kicked out of the photographers union for violating professional ethics. By various outrageous subterfuges he had managed to get a lot of sensational, exclusive pictures. This made the other photographers look bad, so they had him kicked out of the union and he joined the Navy. Izzy was the expert commentator on board on the Arab-Israeli conflict.

  The final member of the crew was Satchmo Page, Stewards Mate 2C, and the only one aboard outside of Fatso and Scuttlebutt who was on his second cruise. Satchmo was one of our disadvantaged citizens. On a dark night he would loom up in a blacked-out clothes closet as a dark spot. Satchmo blew a hot trumpet and could ea
sily have made a good living on the outside playing in a name band, or as a chef at the Waldorf, for that matter. But Satch liked the Navy, would soon be making first class, and was figuring on making a career of it.

  All these men, despite their widely different backgrounds, had one thing in common. They were all adventurous spirits whose outlook on life was the same as Fatso's. They could all engage in enterprises which can be severely punished under military law and at the same time give the outward appearance of being Boy Scouts who are helping old ladies to cross the street. Men who possess the initiative and strength of character to do this naturally gravitate to positions of responsibility and trust in the military service, and these men were being well fitted for such positions by service under Fatso's command.

  After dinner that evening, the boys gathered around the radio to listen to the news of the world. At this time, early in 1970, peace and good will reigned throughout the world, except in Vietnam, most parts of Africa, the Russo-Chinese border, and on the college campuses of the U.S.A. In the U.S. we maintained law and order by allowing the students to take over the college administration buildings, beat up the deans, run the Marine recruiters off the campus, and burn down the ROTC buildings. Elsewhere in the world, whenever an international crisis arose, the UN promptly passed a resolution urging both sides to be calm, and then went back to its main job of trying to wangle enough dough out of the U.S. to pay its bills.

  Of course the Arabs and Israelis were not getting along very well together, either. Every day, each side made commando raids into the other's territory in retaliation for what the other side had done the day before, and Cairo and Jerusalem issued abusive statements about each other.

  Presently the radio news came on: "Cairo: Egypt announced today that two hundred innocent women and children were killed yesterday by Israeli bombs dropped on the outskirts of Cairo. President Nasser said the attack was unprovoked and that retaliation would be swift and deadly."