Acadia

By Newton Taylor

Three stories woven into one that will have the reader questioning the ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781684097319

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fort Devens

The bright sun reflected blinding light over the snow-covered ice of the Kennebec River in southern Maine. The long river, starting from Indian Lake in the Moosehead Lake, Rockwood, area picks up tributaries and streams, heading south through Bingham and all around through Skowhegan, Waterville, Augusta, and Gardiner. This time of the year, from mid-January through early March. The Coast Guard cutter Yankton, my ship, a seagoing tug, that was used and built for World War Two for several special maneuvers, including tug boat operations. This ship was equipped with an ice-breaking bow and was able to break up to four feet of freshwater ice and probably five to five and one half feet of saltwater ice. The salt in the water weakens its strength. Our job through mid to late winter is to keep the channel, the center of the river, open and free of solid ice so ships can sail upriver and help when the ice is thawing to prevent ice jams. In certain narrow parts of the river, especially around bends, broken ice accumulates and jams up, causing a damming situation and flooding the river’s banks. Low-lying towns then get flooded. Years ago, they had to blast with dynamite to break up those jams. The southern part of the river from Augusta to Richmond is quite wide with a lot of ice in March. This, for the most part, was our stretch of water to keep open. The ship had a crew of eighteen, and the captain was a lieutenant. A small ship of 110 feet long and a small crew made a friendly place. The food aboard was super. Local fish and clams, crabs one day a week, and lobster one day a week. Tough to take but somebody has to get it.

This was my second ship. I spent a year in Alaska in the Aleutian Islands based on Adak Island. It was a navy base from World War Two, but the navy still had the base and the airport. Our job, there was SAR cases, search and rescue, and aids to navigation, like buoys, and lights on entrances to harbors or shallows. That ship was a 180-foot ship called a buoy tender, with a large crane forward and a deck to carry buoys. These sometimes weigh three to four tons each. The ship was named the Cutter Balsam. She had a twenty-eight man crew. It was an exciting year, but lonely too.

The scenery was overwhelming. Many glaciers, sleeping volcanoes, and killer whales everywhere. That adventure led me to put in for Maine, also a beautiful state, but a little closer to home in Pennsylvania. Working in the engine room every day, I hardly ever saw the sun. There were oils to change and engine generators to service and painting, lots of painting. It seems that if it’s a month old, it needs another coat of paint. That’s not just in the engine room, but all parts of the ship. Outside, the deck force scraped and painted constantly. The saltwater against the hull, the superstructure, the cabin, and upper decks always rusted because of the salt in the water. When we came in from being underway, we always had a fresh water wash down. Out to sea, it was a little more exciting just moving was better. Oh, some of us got sick, especially in search-and-rescue cases. There usually wasn’t search and rescue if it was calm, only when there was a storm out at sea and the waves got pretty rough.

I remember one case: we were out for ten days because an airliner went down. We never made it to the scene. The wind was at our starboard, right, side, and blew the ship twenty-four miles left of the accident. In four days, the seas calmed down some and other vessels went to the scene. The Balsam was built for power, not speed. That’s why we couldn’t make headway in the wind. We stayed in the area for ten days. I was very sick, with others of course.

After three days, we had to work our eight hours anyway. Boy! We walked around with buckets. The plan was to puke then go to the mess deck and eat Saltine crackers and chase them down with a glass of water, so in two hours, when you puke again, you have something in your stomach to puke out. Then up you go again and do it over and over. That SAR case, I lost twelve pounds in ten days. A great diet.

This day in Maine was beautiful, standing on deck, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the sun’s glare; something you don’t get below deck. Ramming the solid ice with the ship and making only about one-half a ship-length advancement, over the broken ice. Feeling throughout the ship, the shaking and vibration of the giant propeller chipping away the broken pieces of ice, only to go ahead again full bore to advance forward another thirty to fifty feet, and repeating this action for eight hours or more was monotonous. It was the fourteenth of March 1970. At 1300 hours or 1:00 pm would end our ten days of maneuvers. We would leave our temporary home on the river to head south to the Coast Guard base in South Portland. That is where the Yankton is moored.

Tom on watch in the engine room was getting madder by the minute. He was supposed to be relieved by me, Fireman James Hardy, at 1200 hours to take over the watch for four hours. This watch is called the midwatch. When your section has duty, there is an engine man, a man from the deck force, and an officer in charge. A first-class or second-class petty officer on duty to watch and make sure the ship is running smoothly. This is the way it is at sea or when docked.

Three people must be aboard at all times. The other watches are the four to eight and the eight to twelve. Each man stands one of these time periods twice a day. But as usual, I forgot to relieve the watch. Tom stormed to the mess deck where six sailors were eating lunch and said, Did anyone see fuckin’ Hardy?

One of the men said, He’s probably where he always goes, up by the stack.

What does he do up there anyway? one of the men asked.

I don’t know. Probably plays with himself. They all chuckled, except Tom.

It’s not funny, he’s always late.

The upper deck, the third deck, is where the exhaust stack from the engines is located. It’s warm there, and you can hear the rumbling of the diesels, plus its height gives you a grand view all around. It’s a good place to get away from everyone to rest and relax. The smooth breeze and the clear sky were interrupted by Hardy, get your ass down in the engine room!

Dammit, I’m late again. With apologies at hand and speeding down the ladders, I relieved him of his duties.

What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you have a watch?

Sorry again, Tommy boy. I just lost track of time.

What? Do you have some broad on your mind? Huh? What? Are you going to get laid tonight? That would be the only excuse I would accept. Try to get better on this will ya, boy? I have things to do, you know.

Like what? Watch TV?

Well, yeah. With a grin on the side of his face, Tom turned and left. Tom is a good friend, probably the best, along with Gary. Gary . . . Boy, what a trip he is. The three of us pal around. Gary is single and wild, but Tom is down to earth and married to Jenny, with two kids, boys. He’s been a good buddy over the last two years, but not very friendly about ten minutes ago.

He and I, and sometimes his dad, would go deer hunting in the Allagash in northern Maine in Aroostook County. I think Aroostook County is the size of Massachusetts. The Saint Johns region of the Allagash, where there isn’t a decent home in 2.5 million acres, is a real good area to get lost. The Great Northern Paper Company, the Seven Island Paper Company, and the state of Maine own the land. It is 370 miles north from Kittery to where we hunt. The last three years we took leave together and went there. The guy is the best family man and has the best wife in the whole world. The only lady I could think of that is better than Jenny is my older sister, Sarah. They take care of me like I was family.

My watch would be the last one before docking at the base. Finally, after four hours, the all hands on deck call was given by the chief petty officer on duty from the bridge, the wheelhouse from where the ship is operated. All hands have their stations to report to. All of the engine room gang, including myself, gather below. The deck hands man the lines when mooring.

After the ship was secured, the landline was in place, electric and telephone lines were hooked up from the base, and the generators and main engines were taken offline and shut down. It’s an eerie time after the main engines stop. It’s deathly quiet. After ten days of listening to the rumble throughout the ship and the engine room, things get back to normal. When it is all secured, liberty is granted to the two-duty sections that are off. Usually aboard ship or on the base, there are three-duty sections—one, two, and three. One of the three has duty every day. On the Work day, everybody aboard ship works eight hours, from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm, 0800 to 1600 hours. If section one has duty, they stay aboard all night while the other two sections get liberty.

Many of us live off base, especially the men that are married. Everyone needs to be back aboard ship at 0800 hours, except on weekends. If section two has duty Friday, then at 0800 hours he gets off all of Saturday and Sunday to be back aboard at 0800 hours Monday morning, and the workweek starts all over again.

I have off this evening, and it will be good to get a good night’s sleep in a regular bed for a change. I have a little one-bedroom, bath, and kitchenette apartment off of Congress Street in downtown Portland, just across the bay from the Coast Guard base. It’s a little homey with a rollaway bed in the main room.

Ben, another good friend aboard ship, has the same type of apartment down the street. He’s single and loves to party, a lot of fun. He hails from a little town south of Lake George in upper New York State. We get together and drink some beer and go out on the town quite a bit. He is the type of guy that comes from money. His father is in some kind of oil business, and makes sure his son Ben always has a stash. Plus, the guy is good looking, not like the rest of us, and dresses well, so he usually draws babes as soon as he walks through the door. Of course, we are right behind him picking up the seconds. One thing about Ben, he doesn’t have a head about wealth. He’s pretty cool, just a regular guy. Ben is a third-class Boson mate. That is the most important rate aboard ship in the enlisted men’s category. Boson mates are the head of the deck force, in charge of anything outside the ship, including painting everything that does not move. The ole saying is If it moves, think about it, but if it doesn’t move, paint it. I must take my hat off to Ben. He takes his job quite seriously. He’s a guy to count on and always has a babe under one of his arms, the prick! Sometimes Gary, Tom, Ben, and I go on a Saturday beer-drinking binge. Not so much Tom, but sometimes Jenny says, What the hell, go for it, Tommy.

Boy, I need a wife like that, and so does every guy that is ready to settle down. Benny never puts on in front of Jenny or any other of the crews’ wives, and that’s a plus. You get some of these Coasties that have a few beers and get around women, and they act like demented nitwits. All said and done, Ben and I get along pretty well.

The next morning at 0800 hours, a bunch of us guys were having coffee in the mess deck. Lieutenant Failon, the XO, or the executive officer, came storming in yelling, Where the hell is Hardy?! With wide eyes and wonder, I acknowledged.

Who the fuck do you think you are? he responded.

I answered, I am sorry, sir. I don’t know what you are talking about.

Bullshit was his answer. How dare you go over my head! Then I knew.

Oh, I said softly.

We were in the first Coast Guard district. Every year, so many enlisted men are sent to Fort Devens army base in Massachusetts to qualify on the pistol range. I wanted to go but I didn’t go through the proper channels or chain of command, probably because I was a little naive about these things, but I was schooled right quick, face-to-face with a screaming lieutenant. He said it was stupid, and I should stay back and do my work here, but it was approved by his superior officer on the base. He then threw the temporary transfer papers in my face and yelled, Get the hell out of my sight. Hastily I retreated from the mess deck, and you bet, the rest of that day I stayed out of Failon’s way. I was happy because in four days, I would be heading south on 95 to 495 to Ayer, Massachusetts to Fort Devens Army base, about one hundred miles away from south Portland for two weeks. A certain amount of service men had to qualify for score at a designated level each year to keep active in case the Coast Guard was called to serve in a war or skirmish. I was to qualify myself then help on the range when other sailors from other parts of the district came to shoot.

It was early April and being in New England was no picnic. We lived in glorified Quonset huts, steel buildings used in World War Two to house men to be trained before heading to war. The buildings had a round roof like an airplane hangar with very little heat. The wind and the snow squalls blew through the open space of the barracks like many arrows out of many bows. We went to the range every day for eight hours in the cold to shoot. We were shooting army-issued .45 caliber automatic handguns. It was a nice change from the ship.

The weather got better after a few days at the army base, and I met some great guys from all over the United States. One was from Texas, another from Florida. He couldn’t stand the cold at all. His name was Buster from Miami. He wore three pairs of socks all the time, even when he slept. A lot of men were from New England. I guess they wanted to stay close to home.

One of the guys, Wally, was from Richmond, Virginia, would gamble at the drop of a hat. Cards, craps, or bet on anything. One day, he was playing craps with some guys, and it was getting intense. I can still hear him say in that deep Southern drawl as the other men threw the dice, Crap. Dice, damn, not again. He and I became good friends and talked about hunting and shooting our .44 Magnums. He was freshly married and had an apartment outside of Boston. Five days into the adventure, Dave, another friend came up to me and said, Let’s go out tonight.

He said, That’s all we have to do is find a place called the Mohawk Club. Somewhere out on route two. Shorty was telling me about it. A live band and babes everywhere.

Babes, huh? What time?

Seven thirty. I’ll drive you to buy pizza on the way

Beer and babes. Sounds better than sticking around here watching dumb television. I was thinking to myself that these two weeks could be better than I thought they’d be.

He was early, but soon we were on our way. We stopped for beer and pizza then tried to find the joint. Didn’t Shorty tell you where it was?

Yeah, but I forgot.

Pull the hell over and let me ask this guy. What is it, the Mohegan Club?

No, dummy. The Mohawk Club.

What did he say?

If you had the radio turned down you would have heard. Two miles down the road on the left.

Boy, I uttered to myself. Nice place. We went in and got a table. A couple of seats at a table I should say. We had a beer, shot the bull, looked around, and waited for the band to start. Lots of girls, and the crowd filled the place up quickly. Dave went crazy. Man, look at that, and look at that, he said, and of course, I did. Oh! This is a hot spot, don’t you think?

Yeah, of course.

The band started playing and the dance floor filled up quickly. When they started the second song, two girls sat down two tables away. A redhead and a beautiful blond with very long hair down to her lower back. Oh my! I said.

Isn’t that wonderful? Now Dave had his eye on another girl. He nudged me.

What? I said with an attitude.

Look at that one.

Yeah, yeah. Don’t bother me, I am studying this angel up ahead. I said to myself and then to Dave, The next song, I am going to ask her to dance. The song playing lasted forever, but when it ended, I got ready like a quarterback over center, but two guys beat me to the punch. Dammit, I uttered. Well, I will try again." Dave was off somewhere talking to some dragon. Boy. He’s got more balls than I have. Man. But she’s probably a score-able broad. The next song I went to get up quick, but she was gone.

Hell! Now what? So I asked another to dance, scanning the whole room for that angel until that song finally ended, and I returned to my seat. Dave was nowhere in sight, but I didn’t care. As I sat down, so did my blond. Oh, right! I thought. I stood up closer to her table waiting for the next song to start. Being I was there first, I asked and she looked at me with two of the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and smiled at me. At the same time, we went to the dance floor. After two more dances, I took my chair to her table and got more acquainted with her. Mary was her name, Mary Stevens from Haverhill, a town about twenty miles east of here off of Route 495. We talked and laughed. She was twenty-one and just had a birthday on the thirteenth. Born and raised in Haverhill, most of her family lives there. She has a younger sister. Her father sells insurance and travels a lot. Her mother is a stay-at-home mom and takes care of things when her dad is away. She said she works for a veterinarian and starts college next spring to be one and then to start her own business in the future. She wanted to know about me. I didn’t want to talk about myself, but she insisted. I told her I was from a small town in eastern Pennsylvania called Stroudsburg in the Pocono Mountains. She said she heard of the Poconos but not Stroudsburg. Anyway, I said I had two sisters and one brother. My father remodels bathrooms and kitchens, and my mother is also a stay-at-home mom. I joined the Coast Guard a year after I graduated high school, spent a year in Alaska in the Aleutian Islands aboard a ship, and was now in my forth year on a smaller ship in South Portland, Maine. I told her we were down on the base at Fort Devens shooting handguns for two weeks. "Now that’s enough from me. Please talk about yourself for the rest of the night.

I am most interested. She told me about her love for animals and the sea. I assured her being in the Coast Guard was not loving the sea. But I also agreed the shore of Maine and the south shore of the Boston area were fabulous and very romantic. She said, Yes, romantic is the word. Then her girlfriend started to say something to her, and she turned away. My thoughts were immediate I will walk with you on a secluded beach barefoot someday soon, holding your hand, and gazing in those beautiful, blue eyes. This will happen. My mind went crazy. Then she turned quickly to me and said, This is one of my favorite songs. Let’s dance.

I nodded and thought to myself, There is nothing on this earth that I would rather do than to dance forever with you. It was slow and we danced close. Yes, it happened. My feet were not touching the floor. The first scent of her close to me, whatever she had on, I will never forget ’til the day I die.

I wanted to buy a bottle just to keep in my place. Gee, it smelled wonderful, and she was wonderful too. But like everything else, it was coming to an end. It was late, and she and her girlfriend had to leave. I know it’s dumb, but my heart was breaking. We danced a few more dances before she had to leave. But a good thing, we made a date for the next Monday. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked her and her friend to their car. She was riding, and with the car running and her window down, I put my hand under her chin, and with those eyes staring in mine, I said softly, Until Monday. Her reply was the same. I stood there alone and watched the car drive away. Even the taillights of the car looked sexy.

Boy, I said in a low voice. What a perfect babe. Mm-mm.

As I turned to go back inside, Dave came running across the parking lot. What are you doing? I asked.

Fuck her! he said. She said she was going for a drink and to the bathroom. Yeah, the bathroom all right. She came out here to see her boyfriend. Three drinks wasted, and all that time. She’s an ass. I have her number. Her girlfriend gave it to me. Tomorrow I’m going to call her and give it to her. Man. What are you doing out here? he asked. Where’s your chick? Did she see her boyfriend too?

No, nothing like that, as we walked back to our seats. Well, I said, let’s have one more beer and then get out of here.

He said, Well, tell me what happened with you and blondie.

Oh, I asked her to marry me and she said tomorrow.

Dream on, funny man.

No. Actually I have a dinner date with her next Monday.

Why wait ’til Monday? The whole weekend is coming up.

I got plans.

What, another woman?

No. I am heading home for the weekend.

Oh. Unlucky you.

Hey, why don’t you take me home with you? Don’t you have two sisters?

Yeah. But they would runoff if they saw you.

Screw you.

We left and headed back to the army base. Dave was pretty drunk and bought a six-pack to drink on the way back to the base. He was making jokes and laughing at me. That girl, what’s her name, Mary? Yeah, Mary. She, she . . . she is so far out of your friggin’ league, it’s not funny. But I am laughing. Haha. You got her number?

I’m taking her out Monday night. Don’t you listen? I yelled.

You don’t need to bite my head off. Have a beer.

No, why do you think I am driving?

I don’t know. You like my car?

Yeah, right. We made it back to the base, and we settled in for the night. I couldn’t wait to fall asleep to think of my new love, her name is Mary. That name will never be the same for me. I laid there and relived every moment of tonight, and I could still smell the fragrance of her perfume on my shirt. I may never wash it again.

Morning came quickly. I wanted to get an early start. It was a six-and-a-half-hour drive to Stroudsburg. I was shaving when Dave waltzed in slowly. I looked at him through the mirror.

You don’t look so good.

Shut up, he said. I finished the six pack in bed and spilled one.

You drank beer in your bunk.

Yeah. What a thrill. Oh, don’t talk so loud.

What are you doing this weekend? I asked.

Staying here. I am going to sleep all day and then guess what?

You’re going back to the Mohawk Club tonight.

Right. I want to find me a blonde Mary just like yours. Ha, maybe she’ll be there again tonight.

Boy, I thought to myself. Gee. I hope not. That jest was a little displeasing. Dammit, that nitwit is going to give me something to think about over the weekend.

I grabbed some coffee and some toast from the mess and headed south. I had this girl I met last night on my mind all the way home. It’s a wonder I could even find my way home. A smile from ear to ear, that was me all right. What a great feeling. Boy, I hope this works out.

I arrived home about 3:00 pm and my two sisters ran out to greet me. They were both in a wedding. I am the youngest of the four. Sarah is married with two children. Married to William, who is an architect. I used to call him Frank, for Frank Lloyd Wright. Sarah is the wiser of the two, well, probably of all the siblings. She is very serious about everything, and it’s hard to make her laugh. They live in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, about one hundred miles west of Stroudsburg. Sarah is my big sis. She’s always helped me with everything from homework to science projects. I think if it wasn’t for her, I would have never graduated, and when the family saw me off to boot camp, she said she will always be there for me. Now that’s a sister for ya. Darla, on the other hand, is out there, in space somewhere, a joker always, never took things to heart. She’s passive and loved her mom. She was always in the kitchen when Mom was cooking and was included in almost everything my mother did. I used to say she was my mother’s appendage, appendage from hell. I was always getting her in trouble and making her cry. She would say when we got home from the school bus, Mother, he embarrasses me so much. But a good girl, and smart, but not smart and wise like Sarah. But we all got along really well. Darla is going to college up on the hill at East Stroudsburg State Teacher’s College.

She wants to be a phys. ed. teacher. I could always beat her in sports and track, but I don’t know anymore. She is semi-engaged to another Dave. He was close to the Heisman trophy winner but not quite. A great quarterback though. So Darla still lives at home with Mommy.

My brother Patrick is quiet. He is five years older than me. He and Dad would go hunting and fishing together and leave me behind. That’s the way it was for a while until I got older. We only had two or three years together until he went away in the army then college. He is still there. He’s going to try to be a lawyer, but I think he is losing interest. He got married last year to Barbara. Barbara is a winner, big time. Being in the same room with her for ten minutes is just enough, but he loves her. So good for him. Though we don’t see each other much, we still talk on the phone just about every week. He is interested in what I do and wants to know everything. I like that.

We went into the house. I hugged my mother and shook my dad’s hand. He was watching the Knicks. We all talked about everything then had supper. Sarah had to leave the next morning because she was a Sunday school teacher. After dinner, the girls were in the kitchen with Mom, and I told Dad about Mary and how we met, and that I had a date with her on Monday night, and the way I felt about her. He looked at me a little funny, as if he were thinking, You just met her for only four hours, and said, That’s nice, and changed the subject. He talked about basketball, Patrick, and my mother, and that was nice too. The rest of the gang came in, and we had pie and ice cream.

Early the next morning, Sarah was making coffee and with her sober voice said, How are things really going, James? I told her about Mary, and of course, she was very interested and as only Sarah would say, Please be careful. Take it slow, I don’t want my little brother to get hurt. But on the same token, call me often and let me know what’s happening. She sounds like a great girl, and I know how you feel about blondes anyway. That’s why I’m your favorite sister, and almost blonde and she laughed, a rare thing. But she really was concerned, just looking out for me like she used to. I told her that I had told Dad about Mary but he didn’t seem too interested. "Oh, that’s just the way he is, you know that. Heck, when I told him about William, he looked disgusted. What did you think that made me feel like? That’s