Date: Tue, 20 Mar 2012 20:03:19 -0400
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: Caution_and_Courage_Part_2_of_8

CAUTION AND COURAGE

 PART TWO

 Only two days after Will and Billy reported for duty the USS
 Brighton steamed out of the port of San Diego loaded with
 heavy equipment and supplies for the troops in South
 Vietnam. The two new seamen were given a crash course
 on their duties in the engine room. There was not much to
 learn: keep an eye on several gauges in the control room
 that monitored the functions of the massive engine and
 periodically lubricate various gears and bearings. If
 something did go wrong, they were to immediately notify the
 Crew Chief who would dispatch an experienced team to
 correct the problem. The implication (not a promise) was
 that they might be promoted out of the engine room and
 would have less menial duty. Unless something went wrong,
 there was little to do and most of the time was boring. The
 twelve hour shifts were staggered. Will worked from six in
 the morning to six at night. Billy worked noon to midnight.
 Two other sailors had similar schedules so the engine room
 was staffed with two people around the clock. Both Billy and
 Will treasured the six hours a day they spent together. Both
 craved the same thing: intimacy. But neither dared doing or
 saying anything that might destroy a friendship and possibly
 result in severe military punishment.

 On the second day at sea, a sailor came into the engine
 room asking, "Benson?"

 "That's me," Will replied.

 "Message from the Captain," the sailor said, handing Will a
 piece of paper and walking out.

 Will read what was on the paper: "Report to me in my office
 at the end of your shift." His surprise and curiosity quickly
 turned to apprehension. Had he said or done something that
 would arouse suspicion over his friendship with Billy? He
 frantically tried to remember something -- anything -- that
 would be incriminating but drew a blank. Except for the
 parting hug at the airport. Someone must have seen it and
 reported it. Confusion, worry, and anxiety grew. By the time
 Billy came on duty at noon, Will was at his wit's end, having
 convinced himself that he would be confronted with an
 unknown person's eyewitness account of his taboo behavior.
 Billy, of course, noticed Will's agitated mood and
 immediately and asked, "What's the problem? Can I help?"

 Will had debated whether to say to Billy about the summons
 to the Captain's office, vacillating between saying nothing
 and telling him about the note. What he dared not say was
 the real reason for his dread of why the Captain wanted to
 see him. "I got a strange note this morning. From the
 Captain! He wants me in his office as soon as I go off duty.
 You've got to admit that's unusual. I have no idea what he
 wants."

 Billy thought for a moment and said, "The way I sees it, he's
 just wonderin' why ya got assigned to the engine room.
 Makes sense to me that he looks over the personnel files of
 all new crew members. An' that would show y'all was way
 ahead of the rest of us in boot camp. I got a hunch he wants
 to put ya in a better job."

 "Maybe so," Will agreed, wondering why he hadn't thought of
 the possibility.

 "For what's it's worth, Will, I'm of a mind that ya should go for
 it. If'n he wants ya somewhere else, that is. I sure would
 miss ya but it'd be best for y'all."

 "Thanks, Billy. I let myself get all worked up in a lather and
 you've calmed me down. Maybe you're right. But I can tell
 you this for sure. "I'd miss being with my best buddy. IF,
 that is, you're right and IF I accept a reassignment."

 "Ya may have no choice, Will. If'n it's an order, ya gotta do
 what he says."

 "Damn! Now you've got me worrying again -- not about
 seeing the Captain but being ordered to take another job."

 "It'll work out, Will. We can still be buddies. Even if we don't
 get to work together."

 In the following six hours, Billy repeatedly tried to calm his
 friend's nerves but with little more than minimal success.
 Will was still troubled by the prospect of being accused of
 homosexuality. And trying to explain away any evidence or
 suspicion the Captain may have.


 Will stopped at his bunk to freshen up before what he had
 come to regard as his judgment day. If he was to be found
 guilty of "unmanly" behavior, at least he would be
 presentable as he was forced to accept the punishment.

 At five past six he knocked on the Captain's open door and
 said, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

 "Benson? Yes. Come in. Sit down."

 Will's heart was racing. His stomach was churning. His
 mind was jumbled. He hoped he wasn't sweating or shaking
 as he took a seat.

 "First of all, Benson, I want this to be informal ... off the
 record. I'm going to be frank and I want you to talk freely.
 For this meeting only, try to forget the bars on my shoulder.
 Okay?"

 The Captain's warm and cordial demeanor helped to calm
 Will's nerves and he replied, "Yes, Sir."

 "I make it a habit to review the records of all my new crew
 members. I'd like to meet them personally and welcome
 them to the Brighton but that's rarely possible. In your case,
 however, I felt I had to meet you and talk to you. Your
 performance reports from training are universally positive ...
 academics, physical training, attitude ... on every measure
 you're superior. I also noticed with considerable interest that
 you were in the NROTC at Columbia and recommended for
 nomination to OCS during basic training. Imagine my
 curiosity ... and, may I say, disappointment ... when you
 refused the opportunity. Why did you turn down what other
 recruits would give their left nut for?"

 Will was extraordinarily relieved that the conversation was
 not about homosexuality or even about his close friendship
 with Billy. His anxiety level dropped to normal -- normal,
 that is, for a freshly minted sailor talking to the Captain of the
 ship. Before answering the Captain, Will said, "You
 indicated that this meeting was to be informal. Does that
 mean I can speak freely, Sir?"

 "Please do."

 "All I can say, Sir, is what I told Captain Williamson back at
 Great Lakes. OCS would have been a great honor ... but it
 would come with the expectation of extended service in the
 Navy ... perhaps as a career. I was flattered and
 appreciated the offer but it's not what I want to do with my
 life. Do I want to serve my country in the Navy? Absolutely!
 But I don't want to make a career out of it."

 "I see," said the Captain. "There's just one more question I
 have. Why ... with your outstanding talent ... were you
 assigned to the engine room of a cargo ship? It seems the
 Navy is not benefiting from what you can offer."

 "I'm afraid I don't know, Sir. It may have been a clerical
 error. Or some kind of SNAFU. Or it may have been..." Will
 didn't complete his comment and regretted having begun it.

 "Or what, Benson?"

 "With respect, Sir, I'd rather not say. It's pure speculation."

 "I've assured you that this meeting is off the record. Nothing
 you say will leave this room. I just want to understand the
 men under my command ... especially men who might have
 leadership potential. You were about to say?"

 "Well, Sir, I have no proof. I'm extrapolating from incidents
 in my past. But I think it's plausible that my father arranged
 the assignment as punishment for refusing OCS."

 "And how in the name of all that's Holy could he do that?"

 "With respect, Sir, I must decline to answer that question.
 To do so would jeopardize the reputation of someone and
 I'm unwilling to do that solely on the basis of personal
 inference."

 The Captain sat quietly for several moments, which made
 Will nervous. Had he shown disrespect or disobedience in
 refusing to answer? Was the Captain serious in saying that
 the conversation was informal? Eventually, the Captain
 spoke. "Your discretion is admirable, Benson ... just the sort
 of thing a leader must have. Before you go, I want you to
 know that I'll be keeping an eye on you. If the opportunity
 arises, I'm going to give you an assignment more in keeping
 with your abilities. I don't know what that might be at the
 moment but I'm confident the time will come. Oh. One more
 thing. I promised that this meeting was off the record. I'd
 appreciate it if you didn't tell any of your shipmates about it
 ... except, perhaps, to say that I just wanted to meet a new
 member of the crew. Will you do that for me?"

 "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

 "Dismissed, sailor."

 Will stood, saluted his Commanding Officer, did a smart
 about-face, and left. Making his way back to his quarters, he
 chided himself for worrying so much about being accused of
 homosexuality and elevated his respect for Billy who
 correctly identified the purpose of the meeting.

 While Will was meeting with the Captain, Billy frequently
 wondered what it was all about. He was not worried as Will
 had been about the homosexuality issue since neither of
 them had said or done anything to suggest improper
 behavior since coming aboard the ship. At one point, he
 decided he would wake his buddy when he got off duty at
 midnight but discarded the idea. Instead, he would be sure
 to be awake well before six the next morning to talk to Will
 and to satisfy his curiosity.

 Will, keeping his promise, said only, "The Captain wanted to
 meet one of the new crew members. He's really a pretty
 nice guy. I'm glad to be serving in his command."

 "Why'd he pick you?" Billy probed. "Was it `cause o' yur
 performance in trainin' like I thought?"

 "Can't say," Will responded. "He told me that he tried to
 meet new crew members when he has time." Will
 complimented himself. It was not a lie ... it was a half-truth
 but not a lie. And it seemed to satisfy Billy's curiosity.
 "Gotta go get some breakfast now, good buddy. See you at
 noon ... or, in Navy lingo, eight bells."

 <><><><><>

 At noon the following day, the Captain's voice came over the
 PA system throughout the ship. "Attention all hands. This is
 the Captain. We have been diverted to Guadalcanal to pick
 up additional cargo for Vietnam. That means we'll be
 crossing the equator at approximately 0800 hours tomorrow.
 Shellbacks will inform all pollywogs of appropriate
 preparations. That is all."

 "I know what a pollywog is," Billy said. "Used to catch `em in
 the crick back o' the barn. Used the little ones for fishin' bait.
 But beats me why they has `em on a ship. And what in
 tarnation is a shellback?"

 "I have no idea," Will replied, just as perplexed as his buddy.
 "I guess we'll find out sooner or later ... or at least be given
 orders for whatever the `preparations' might be.

 Billy thought for a while and then said, "Ya tol' me that yur
 daddy and gran'pappy were in the Navy. What'd they tell ya
 about crossin' the `quator?"

 "Not a thing," Will said apologetically. "Either they never
 crossed the equator or there's something secretive about it.
 We'll just have to wait and see."

 Several minutes later, a Lieutenant burst into the engine
 room shouting, "Listen up, slimy pollywogs! You heard the
 Captain. It's wog day! We'll cross the equator tomorrow,
 That means you wogs will be initiated into the Kingdom of
 Neptune and forever more be known as Trusty Shellbacks."
 Billy and Will were stunned into silence not only by the
 presence of an officer in the engine room but by the bizarre
 things he was saying. They could only hope that things
 became clearer as he continued. "Tonight at 1900 hours
 you will report topside. You and other unworthy pollywogs
 will assemble at the stern to await your summons by King
 Neptune. Which of you will be on duty here at that time?"

 "I will, Sir," replied Will.

 "No you won't! What part of `report topside at 1900 hours'
 don't you understand, Slimy Pollywog. A Shellback will
 relieve you long enough for the ceremony."

 The Lieutenant turned to leave but Will said, "Sir, can we ask
 what this is all about?"

 "No, you may not!" the officer barked with an expression of
 anger etched on his face. "King Neptune will give you the
 details at the ceremony."

 Both Billy and Will obsessed for hours over the mystery of
 what the ceremony would be.

 A brawny sailor came into the engine room fifteen minutes
 before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. Will asked,
 "What's going on with this ceremony business?"

 The sailor laughed and said, "You'll find out. All I can say is
 that it's an ancient tradition. There was a time when new
 sailors were brutally tormented. Several died from it. As late
 as World War II, the initiation involved paddling, whipping,
 and dunking. But I can't say what the Captain will allow. All
 I can say is `good luck'."

 His ominous comment instantly changed Will's curiosity to
 anxiety.

 <><><><><>

 Ten minutes before eight, Will's curiosity was tinged with fear
 because of the possibility of paddling, whipping, and dunking. A
 crusty seaman entered the engine room and barked, "Get your
 sorry ass up to the stern, pollywog!"

 Will said nothing -- he'd learned it was not prudent to ask
 questions -- but immediately made his way up to the stern of
 the ship where he saw Billy and three other nervous pollywogs
 surrounded by a phalanx of very grim seasoned seamen, one of
 whom grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him into the small
 group of newbies awaiting some unknown fate. They waited for
 what seemed a long time before hearing three claps of the
 ship's bell. Two sailors grabbed Billy's arms and led him toward
 the bow of the ship.

 It seemed the entire crew, except for a few manning critical
 duties, were gathered to watch whatever fate might befall the
 worried Billy. Seated on a barrel in the middle of the circling
 crowd was a man in a long, blue, satin robe. A rag mop was
 tied to his chin simulating a white beard. Another was perched
 on top of his head as though it was long, straggly hair cascading
 down over his ears. A crude, paper crown sat slightly askew on
 his head. The man held a long pole made to look like a trident
 through creative use of cardboard. If Billy weren't so
 apprehensive, he would have laughed at the comic sight. And
 at the bare-chested man with an eye patch standing next to
 King Neptune who commanded, "On your knees in the presence
 of His Majesty!" Billy, confused and apprehensive, was not
 quick enough to respond and two seamen forced him down,
 smashing his knees painfully onto the deck.

 "What have you brought before me?" King Neptune bellowed.
 Billy recognized voice of the Captain.

 "A slimy pollywog, Your Majesty," replied Davey Jones (a.k.a.
 the First Officer). "He beseeches you to be permitted into your
 kingdom."

 "What is your name?" King Neptune demanded.

 "Seaman Billy Ray Simpson, Sir."

 "WRONG!" shouted the costumed Captain. "Administer the
 punishment for uttering an untruth!"

 One of the Shellbacks was standing behind Billy and poured a
 bucket of seawater over the confused young man's head,
 soaking his clothes and making him gag and sputter. (It was
 not, as some believe, an early, crude form of water boarding but
 it had a similar effect.)

 "While in this court, you are not a seaman!" King Neptune
 bellowed. "You're a lowly pollywog! Tell me your name again."

 "Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Sir."

 "Such impertinence! Administer the punishment for disrespect!"

 Another pail of seawater was dumped over Billy's head.

 "While in my presence, you will address me as Your Majesty.
 Now tell me your name, slimy pollywog, and do it properly or
 suffer much harsher punishment."

 "Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Your Majesty."

 "Well done ... at last. Take him away, Mr. Jones. We will
 consider the worthiness of this pitiful soul to join our kingdom
 and let you know on the morrow of our decision.

 Billy was led, quite forcefully to the back of the crowd
 surrounding the imaginary king.

 The ritual was repeated for the remaining three pollywogs, each
 receiving at least two drenchings for dishonesty and disrespect.
 When the hazing was over, the pollywogs were ordered to clean
 up and return to duty.


 The next morning, the pollywogs and the crew members who
 were not on essential duty assembled on deck. The Captain
 appeared (in regulation uniform) and read a proclamation:

 "Whereas by our Royal Consension, our trusty, well-beloved
 pollywogs have this day entered Our Domain, we hereby declare to all
 whom it may concern that it is our royal will and pleasure to confer
 upon them the freedom of the seas. Should any of them fall overboard,
 we do command that all sharks, dolphins, whales, mermaids and other
 dwellers in the deep are to abstain from maltreating him. We further
 direct all sailors, soldiers, airmen and others who have not crossed
 into our royal domain to treat him with respect due. Given under our
 hand at our courts on board the USS Brighton on the equator, latitude
 zero. Furthermore, given that the fortuitous event occurred at the
 International Date Line, longitude one hundred eighty, each of the new
 subjects in our kingdom is accepted into the Order of the Dragon."

 The Captain then distributed a certificate with the printed
 proclamation to each of the former pollywogs, shook their
 hands, and signaled the crew to shout "Hip, Hip, Hooray!"

 <><><><><>

 The Brighton arrived at Guadalcanal where the ship's crew
 learned that the navigator on a C5 Galaxy cargo plane, then
 new to the Air Force Fleet, suffered a medical emergency after
 leaving Pearl Harbor. The plane landed at Henderson Airport
 (formerly Henderson Field, a military base, during World War II).
 Because of delays in flying in a replacement navigator, some of
 the plane's cargo -- the medical supplies that were critically
 needed -- was transferred to the Brighton. That work was done
 by local contractors so most of the sailors had a day of
 relaxation. The powerful engines were idle and the engine room
 was quiet. But Will was not going to have any rest. The day
 before arriving off the coast of Honiara, the country's capital,
 Will was summoned to the Captain's office and given a special
 assignment.

 "I told you, Benson, that I might have a special assignment for
 you. The time has come. This is a highly classified operation
 so nothing I say now or you do later can be mentioned to
 anyone. ANYONE! Understand?"

 "Yes, Sir."

 "A fighter pilot, Lieutenant Charles Swanson, was flying from
 Pearl Harbor to Sydney, Australia about three weeks ago on a
 classified mission. The last radio contact from him indicated he
 was altering his course due to threatening weather. A local
 fisherman reported a plane going down in flames near a small,
 uninhabited island about forty miles northwest of where we will
 drop anchor off the coast of Guadalcanal. He also claims to
 have seen a parachute falling into the ocean moments later. Air
 Traffic Control at the Guadalcanal airport confirms that an
 unidentified aircraft disappeared from their radar at the same
 time. The Air Force has made several flyovers without seeing
 any evidence of a crash or a survivor. Because of Swanson's
 classified mission, it's imperative to do a ground search of the
 island in case he's still alive. I want you to take two men on the
 launch to investigate. If you find him alive, bring him back to the
 ship. Any questions so far?

 "No, Sir."

 "Now here's the tricky bit. For reasons I don't know, he may
 resist. You'll carry side arms if you have to force him to return.
 Use them only if absolutely necessary! Here's a map. I've
 marked the island."

 Will scanned the map and said, "It's a very small island, Sir. Are
 we sure there no inhabitants who might have information? If so,
 would they understand English?"

 "No permanent residents. It may be visited by local fishermen
 but that's unlikely. Do you have any suggestions for who you
 want on your team?"

 Will thought for a few moments before replying. He tried to
 match the requirements of the assignment with what little he
 knew of the personnel aboard the ship. Two individuals seemed
 to best meet the criteria. He was sure of one and replied, "Billy
 Simpson for one. He's a country boy and would be helpful in
 navigating the terrain. He would have a keen eye for spotting
 any signs of habitation. And Sean Wilcox. His size and
 muscles can be intimidating if that's required." He was less sure
 of the second individual because he didn't know him well. Sean
 was tall and very muscular with a confident, almost arrogant
 personality. Physically he could easily be fodder for a gay
 man's fantasies but his inflated ego and overt hatred of
 homosexuals would prevail over any attraction to his thoroughly
 masculine body.

 "Good choices, Benson. I'll assign them to your team but ask
 you to brief them on the mission on your way to the island. One
 more thing. It's essential that you be back on board the
 Brighton no later than 24 hours after we drop anchor. That's
 when we'll set sail for Nam. If you're not and mostly because
 this mission is classified, I'll be forced to report you as AWOL.
 Above all, Benson, remember that this conversation did not
 happen. Nor can you discuss it with anyone beyond your team.
 Emphasize that to Simpson and Wilcox. That'll be all."

 "If I may, Sir, can I ask one question?"

 "And that is?"

 "Our departure is bound to be noticed. It will create a lot of
 curiosity among the crew. Curiosity can breed false rumors.
 May we say we were merely looking for a downed Airman?"

 "Good thinking, Benson. That confirms my belief that you'll
 make an outstanding leader in the Navy. The answer is yes.
 You may use that as a cover ... IF ASKED ... but on no account
 can you say anything more. Understood?"

 Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

 "Give me twenty minutes to talk to Simpson and Wilcox. They'll
 no doubt ask you what it's all about. Tell them nothing until
 you're in the launch and on your way. Dismissed."

 The Captain's confidence in the green seaman was vindicated
 by Will's questions, his choice for a team, and his apparent
 willingness that bordered on eagerness to accept the
 assignment. However, there was more to be proven. Unknown
 to Will was that the Captain's story was only partially true. Two
 parts were false. The missing pilot was not on a classified
 mission nor was there any reason to believe he would resist
 rescue. Deviously, the Captain was testing Will to see how he
 would handle a secret and potentially dangerous assignment
 with the added pressure of a strict deadline.

 Neither Billy nor Sean Wilcox lost any time in seeking out Will to
 ask what was so special about the "errand" they were being
 sent on and why it was such a secret.
 "What's goin' on? Billy asked. Sean's question was the same if
 considerably more crude: "What the fuck is this horse shit
 about?"

 Complying with the Captain's order, Will could only answer, "I
 can't say now. I can, however, give you some details once
 we're on our way."

 Billy, frustrated but willing to trust his best buddy, accepted the
 ambiguous answer even though his curiosity was heightened by
 it. Sean was displeased, probably angry that he didn't get a full
 explanation, and resented being subordinate on the team to an
 engine room lackey.

 Well before dawn the next day, three sailors began to unsecure
 the launch from its location near the stern. As Will expected,
 they were challenged by the crew member on night watch. Will
 was ready with an immediate reply. "Captain's orders. You can
 verify that by contacting him. That is, if you want to interrupt his
 busy schedule preparing for dropping anchor and arranging with
 the Air Force pilot ashore for transferring the cargo."

 "You're Benson?" the senior seaman asked.

 "I am."

 "All right then. Captain told me you had permission to leave the
 ship. Don't know why but I'm guessing I don't need to know.
 Fuckin' Navy! They give orders but never explanations!"

 The disgruntled night watch expected the launch to head for the
 National Patrol Boat Base on shore to coordinate the cargo
 transfer but was surprised when it headed out toward the open
 sea.


 Will briefed his team on the details, including the false
 information about the pilot's classified mission and his possible
 objection to being rescued. "That don't make no sense," Billy
 perceptively argued. "Why would a body not want to be
 rescued? "'Specially from some itty-bitty island a thousand
 miles from nowhere?"

 "I don't know," Will answered. "The Captain didn't know either.
 At least he said he didn't. All I do know is that we'll have to be
 prepared and we'll have to get him back to the ship ... if we find
 him alive."

 The sun had risen when the launch neared the mysterious
 island. They circled the island, scanning the shoreline for any sign or
 even hint of wreckage or what they hoped to see: the stranded
 pilot. They saw nothing but sandy beaches encircling a dense
 forest. Will said, "Guess we'll have to go ashore and scout
 around, guys."

 Billy, however, shouted, "Wait! See that there big rock stickin'
 up outta the water `bout ten yards from the shore? Don't it
 seem diff'rent to y'all?"

 "No," the other two replied in unison.

 "Lookee there, guys. What's that hangin' on the right side?
 Might be a bit o' trash but it might be somethin' else. Like part
 o' the plane."

 "Let's check it out," Will said as he told Sean to steer the launch
 toward the suspicious object. "If it's nothing at least we can
 start searching the island at that point."

 Billy and Will stood near the bow searching the island's coast for
 the best place to go ashore. Sean was in the wheel house
 amidships and pointed the bow toward the small island. Billy
 said, "Lookee, Will. What's that up ahead?"

 Will looked where Billy was pointing and saw a dark round
 shape with protruding spikes. A moment later, his suspicion
 turned to panic and he shouted back to Sean, "HARD TO
 PORT! NOW!"

 A disastrous few seconds elapsed before the launch began to
 swerve left. An explosion thundered in everyone's ears. The
 stern of the launch was lifted out of the water and broke into
 pieces. Everything not tied down, including the two able-bodied
 seamen at the prow, was catapulted into the sea.

 <><><><><>

 Stunned but feeling lucky to have survived the explosion, Billy
 immediately looked for his comrades. The blood in the
 seawater around Will showed he was wounded. But he couldn't
 see Sean who had been in the wheel house when the explosion
 tore the boat apart. "Y'all okay, Will?" Billy shouted with
 concern bordering on panic clearly evident in his voice.

 "I don't know yet," Will replied. "Got a pain in my leg but I think I
 can make it to shore. Where's Sean?"

 "Dunno," Billy replied but moments later saw Sean come
 sputtering up out of the water, "There he be. Y'all okay, Sean?
 Will's hurt.

 "I'm fine. Let's head for the shore," Sean shouted. "We'll swim
 alongside you, Will, in case you need help. Okay?"

 It was a fifty-yard swim but all three made it safely. Once
 ashore, Sean asked, "What the hell happened?"

 "We hit a mine," Will replied. "I don't know how it got there,
 though."

 After a few moments thinking, Billy said, "D'ya s'pose it was
 from the big World War? Maybe a ship sank -- our'n or one o'
 theirs -- carryin' a bunch o' mines. Sat there right on the
 bottom `til it floated up. Somethin' rattled it loose maybe. Big
 storm? Earthquake? An' after all these years, t'boot."

 Will and Sean had to agree with the logic but had no time to
 speculate further. "Lemme see yur leg," Billy said to Will.

 Will pulled up the right leg of his pants to reveal an ugly gash on
 the back of his calf muscle just above the ankle and said,
 "Looks pretty bad, doesn't it." The wound was a small
 laceration but still bleeding.

 "Let's get ya outta the sun, Will. Can ya walk?"

 Will said he could but he was wrong. His two companions had
 to help him ten yards to the shade of a large tree.

 Billy took off his shirt and wrapped it around the injured leg. "It
 ain't stair-ile but it'll help. Wish we had some anty-septic." He
 then scanned the small hill that sloped up and away from the
 water's edge. "I'll go see if'n I can fetch somethin' better than a
 wet shirt."

 Will said to Sean, "If you swim back out to the launch, maybe
 you can find a first aid kit."

 Sean frowned and said, "What the fuck's the use? The launch
 is sinking fast. By the time I got there it'll be gone. Besides,
 even if I find it, it would be soaking wet and what good would
 that do? We're stuck here. We're sure to die before anybody
 finds us."

 Astonished by Sean's fatalism, Will said, "Don't be so damn
 quick to give up."

 Twenty minutes later, Billy returned at a trot, carrying a handful
 of fat, green, spikey leaves. "Don't know what this is," he said.
 "Looks, tastes, `n' smells just the same as what my mama used
 when I got all scraped up back in Miss'ippi. She called it `low
 veerah'." [i.e., aloe vera, widely found in the tropics and used in
 pharmaceutical preparations for its soothing and healing properties]
 -- "But ya gotta be careful-like `cause some plants look almost
 the same and can hurt ya. Didn't know they grows outside o'
 Miss'ippi, though." He proceeded immediately to loosen the
 makeshift dressing.

 "Are you sure they won't make it worse? Will asked.

 "Can't never be sure," Billy replied. "But it's the best chance we
 got for fixin' you up."

 "Wait," Will said. "I remember something from my NROTC
 classes. I'm going to ask you to do something weird. We had a
 lecture on survival and rescue. I wish I could remember all of it
 but one thing stuck with me because it sounded so ridiculous. If
 you're wounded and don't have any sterile water, alcohol, or
 antiseptic, then you can flush out the wound with fresh urine.
 Piss on it Billy!"

 "WHAT!" Billy exclaimed. "I ain't gonna do that!"

 "Trust me," Will said. "The instructor emphasized that fresh
 urine is safe to use to rinse away any toxic bacteria and it may
 even have healing properties. It isn't any more unusual than
 putting leaves on an open sore."

 Billy continued to resist, supported by Sean who claimed it
 would only make matters worse. But Billy eventually yielded to
 his best friend's pleading and flooded the wound with his urine.
 He then crushed the leaves until a gel-like juice oozed out which
 he carefully smeared on and around the laceration and
 rewrapped the leg with the bloody shirt.

 "I guess it's up to you guys to look for the downed pilot and
 complete the mission."

 "Fuck the mission!" Sean screamed. "We're stuck in the middle
 of no-god-damn-where! Even if we find the pilot alive, what
 fucking good would that do? We're all goners unless you think
 we could swim forty fucking miles back to the ship!"

 The contrast of Sean's arrogant attitude and behavior on the
 ship with his surrender to dire circumstances they now faced
 surprised and irritated both Will and Billy. "Settle down," Will
 replied with as much authority as he could. "It's no good to
 concede defeat. At least not yet. We'll have to come up with a
 Plan B."

 "If you say so," Sean said sarcastically.

 Will, ignoring for the moment Sean's lack of conviction, said,
 "The most critical need we have is fresh water. One of the
 things survivors did was -- hear me out, now, and think about it
 -- they drank their own urine. With no fresh water, it saved their
 lives."

 "You gotta be shittin' me!" Sean reacted with disgust.

 "It's true," Will replied. When the choice is between death from
 dehydration or something you might think is distasteful or even
 disgusting, I think the choice is obvious."

 "He's right, Sean," Billy said. "One o' my kinfolk tol' me how he
 done it when his truck died on him in New Mexico. He was
 walkin' back to the last town when he `membered what he learnt
 in the Army: if' ya get stuck, yur hot and thirsty, drink yur piss.
 Else, ya just might die. He done it and lived to be eighty four."

 "I'm be damned if I do that!" Sean said defiantly.

 Billy said. "First off, I think we oughta look `round a bit. We
 need food and fresh water if we's stuck here for a spell. Water's
 most important. A fella can go a long time without food but only
 a few days without water. Sean and me can look around a bit.
 Whilst we's doin' that, we can see if'n there's any sign o' the
 pilot."

 The pair returned an hour later to find Will asleep. Afraid his
 boyfriend was unconscious from loss of blood, Billy rushed to
 his side, shook his shoulder, and said, "Will, Will, y'all okay,
 buddy?"

 "I'm okay," Will mumbled groggily. "What did you find?"

 "No water, no sign o' the pilot," Billy replied. "And no food less'n
 we eat leaves `n' berries. And somehow shoot a bird ... oodles
 of `em flying `round."

 Sean and Billy left again to gather edibles and managed to
 collect some nuts and berries. They also found some coconuts,
 bananas, mangoes, and papayas -- not the same as the
 cultivated varieties found in supermarkets but quite suitable for
 eating. Billy had also gathered some leaves. Sean questioned
 why his companion collected leaves but Billy reminded him, "Ya
 eat lettuce and cabbage, don'tcha? In Miss'ippi, we eat all kind
 o' greens. They's good for ya." Sean was mystified by the
 process Billy used to test different leaves. He would crush a
 leaf and put the juice on his lip. If there was no unpleasant
 reaction five minutes later, he would put some on his tongue.
 Five minutes after that he would swallow a tiny bit. Fifteen
 minutes later, if he had no adverse reaction, he would
 pronounce the leaves edible. "Poor folks sometimes ain't got no
 money," he explained, "We know the rules for pickin' veg'tation
 that's safe to eat."

 When they returned, Will asked, "Still no sign of fresh water,
 guys?"

 "NO!" Sean said with a tone that mixed disappointment, fear,
 and anger. We'll be dead in a few days without water if nobody
 finds us."

 "Not necessarily," Will said. "The lack of fresh water is not as
 big a problem as we thought. The moisture in the fruit you
 found could prevent or delay dehydration."

 "So I don't have to drink my piss?" Sean asked.

 "Not for a while, anyway," Will replied. "But you may have to if
 you show any signs of dehydration. Right now, there's a more
 immediate worry. I've been thinking about survival in the
 wilderness. Sure, it's stressful. We're worried. But we can't
 give up. You're sounding like you've made up your mind to die
 here. If you believe that, it's more likely to happen. There are
 several instances in history of people stranded but stayed alive
 until they were rescued. A plane crash on a mountain summit.
 A soldier behind enemy lines. Injured hikers who couldn't make
 it back down the mountain. The most important thing to survival
 is not to give up. There are three of us. That's an advantage
 we can use. We've got to use our wits and the resources we
 have. We can't let frustration and fear doom us. You played
 football in high school, Sean. If you were down by 21 points at
 halftime would you give up? NO! You'd keep playing your best.
 Don't let frustration and anger turn into a depression that
 damages your chance of winning."

 <><><><><>

 Will spent a fitful night. Billy spent a frightful night. Will had
 developed a fever. Billy worried that his friend, the man he
 loved, the man he wanted more than anything as a partner, as a
 lover, would succumb to some unknown infection. He punished
 himself by thinking the leaves he used to dress the wound might
 be the cause of his best friend's suffering.

 Well before dawn Billy returned from the water's edge with his
 wet tee shirt to wipe for the umpteenth time his buddy's
 forehead, hoping it would cool him down. He found Will in one
 of his periodic intervals of sleep. Billy started, gently and
 lovingly, to wipe his boyfriend's brow. Will began to mumble
 incoherently. The few words that were distinct indicated a
 resentment of his family and something about his fraternity
 brothers in college. But the jumbled words became slightly
 clearer and Billy strained to hear. The words were as surprising
 as they were welcomed by the worried, guilt-ridden, and
 frustrated former farm boy.

 "Billy ... [mumble] ... love you ... [mumble] ... Billy ... [mumble] ...
 want ... [mumble] ... make love to you ... [mumble] ... passionate
 love ... [mumble] ... can't ... [mumble] ... damn Navy ... [mumble]
 ... hate gays ... [mumble] ... throw me out ... [mumble] ... throw
 YOU out ... [mumble] ...would hurt ... [mumble] ... can't do that
 ... [mumble] ... love you too much." Will twitched and seemed to
 fall back into a deep sleep.

 Billy cried for the first time since he was a little boy. Tears of
 happiness because there was no longer any doubt about what
 he had only suspected. There had been signs but they were
 never as clear as what he just heard. He finally knew for sure
 that the man he loved also loved him. There were also tears of
 deep sadness because the man he loved was suffering and
 may not survive.

 Just after dawn, Will awoke, feeling somewhat better. Billy,
 after a torturous night of worrying about his friend capped by the
 exhilaration of confirming that they loved each other, was
 asleep.

 Will asked, "What time is it, Sean?"

 "It's 0900 hours ... for all the fucking good that'll tell you. The
 Brighton is on its way to Nam. And we're stuck here. AWOL
 too. We're goners!"

 "No we're not! Don't give up, Sean. We still have a chance."

 "Sure," Sean snarled. "As soon as pigs fly!"

 <><><><><>

 As night fell on their second day on the island, Sean and Billy
 returned from a search of another section of the dense forest.
 Billy had made a knapsack out of his tee shirt and it was filled
 with berries, nuts, and leaves. Will was feeling much better
 although hungry. He was able to sit up and even walk short
 distances.

 Sean fell into a deep sleep soon after dark but Will and Billy
 talked quietly. Billy, having given it a lot of thought, said, "I'm
 glad to have ya as a buddy, Will. Yur friendship means more
 than ya know."

 "Same here," Will replied without anticipating the direction the
 conversation would take.

 "We come from different backgrounds," Billy continued. "But we
 have lots in common. We both wanted to join the Navy. We
 both respect honesty `n' character in folks no nevermind what
 their background is. We never had no girlfriend." Billy paused
 to assess his buddy's reaction. It showed, as he expected, a bit
 of discomfort over having no experience with girls. Proceeding
 with his planned script, he said, "I `spect there's one more thing
 we got in common that neither of us had the balls to admit. Am
 I right?"

 "What do you mean, Billy?"

 "I'm sure ya done noticed the way I looked ya over in the
 shower back in basic trainin'. And ya prob'ly guessed the
 meanin' in some o' the stuff I said. `Member when I took ya to
 the airport and we hugged? Remember ya pushed yur crotch
 against mine?"

 "Yeah," Will said tentatively, now suspecting the direction of the
 conversation.

 "I didn't complain none, did I? That means that ya prob'ly know
 my interest in ya is ... well ... gobs more than bein' friends."

 "Are you talking about sex?" Will asked, hoping for the answer
 he wanted.

 "Kinda. I'm gay but sex is just a part of what I'm talkin' about.
 I'm really talkin' `bout love. I love ya, Will. You're exactly the
 kind of guy I'd like to spend my life with. Okay, I said it! Told ya
 my secret! I was scared shitless to tell ya before. But last night
 changed ever'thin'."

 Will was now confused. What happened that would change
 things?

 "Ya was mumblin' in yur sleep. I know ya was all hot with fever
 and couldn't help it but what you said ... or the little parts I could
 understand ... let me know we is alike."

 An odd mixture of dread and curiosity invaded Will's mind.
 What had he said?

 Billy continued talking softly. "I love ya like a man loves a
 woman. I know I can trust ya to keep my secret `cause yur that
 kinda guy. What I want to know is: do y'all really feel the like ya
 said ya did when ya was zapped out sick? Before ya answer,
 let me say one more thing. If ya DON'T feel that way, if ya
 AIN'T gay, or if ya think I'm not what ya want in a partner, I want
 ya to be honest. I really do."

 "You want honesty? I'll let you have it. Yeah, I'm gay. I fought
 with myself since I was a teen. I thought I was sick or
 something. Let me tell you something else. The sight of you in
 the shower gave me the quivers. After I got to know you, I
 respected you. You don't know how much. I had to keep
 pinching myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming because we were
 so different growing up. Would I like to be your partner?
 Without a shadow of a doubt!"

 The smile on both young men sparkled in the dim moonlight.
 What had been taboo for so long -- the impossible hopes and
 dreams that had haunted them, the frustration of wanting and
 not having -- were consigned to the past. Their love for each
 other was clear and except for being stranded on a deserted
 island their future happiness was assured.

 Billy was lying on his side next to Will. He propped himself up
 on his elbow and starred lovingly into the face of his best friend
 who would become his loving partner. "Sean's asleep," he
 cooed.

 "I know what you're thinking, Billy. Don't go there. Not now. If
 Sean wakes up and sees us, it would be ugly. You already
 know he's the biggest bigot imaginable and hates gays with a
 passion. When we have the chance to show our love I want it to
 be beautiful. With no worry about being caught."

 "Aw shucks, Will. I know yur right but I also know I want ya so
 bad."

 "And I want you," Will whispered. "But we'll have to be careful
 and wait."

 Billy lay back down. Moments later he said, "One thing gnaws
 at me, Will. I don't deserve ya. Ya don't need no farm boy
 hangin' `round and stoppin' ya from makin' somethin' special
 outta yur life."

 "From now on, Billy, YOU are my life. If I have your love, that's
 all that matters."

 "Not all," Billy said. "Seems like gettin' off this island is what
 matters right now."


 To be continued


 AUTHOR'S NOTES:
 (1) You may wonder about finding edible vegetation and
 doubt the uses of urine described in the story.
 If so, check it out at http://www.wilderness-survival.net
 (2) Iatia's inspiration and editing cannot be ignored.
 Thanks, my friend.