USS Hoquiam PF-5: Hocky Maru

To the “small boys” especially, it was a dreary and often dangerous campaign of constant blockade and bombardment, essential to the war effort and necessary to the support of the fighting ashore. The Sea War in Korea, Chapter 9, page 283ff JANUARY 1951 “THIS IS A F R S TOKYO WITH THE MORNING NEWS, JANUARY FIRST NINETEEN FIFTY-ONE, AIRMAN MIKE DILL REPORTING. UNITED NATIONS COMMAND IN KOREA REPORTS THE CHINESE COMMUNIST FORCES HAVE MOUNTED AN ALL OUT OFFENSIVE ALL ACROSS THE ENTIRE FRONT WITH OVER A HALF MILLION SOLDIERS.” 0815, January 1, 1951 Sick Bay USS Hoquiam PF-5 Dry-dock #1, SRF Yokosuka, Japan Stewart strode up to the gray door and froze, staring apprehensively at the six-inch Red Cross emblem centered on the door. Stewart pulled his white hat off, hesitating because he just knew that somehow he had magically gotten VD on the cruise to North Korea and Doc was about to give him a shot of penicillin with a thirty-day medical restriction. Seaman Apprentice Stewart shrugged and knocked twice on the doorframe with his knuckles. What a way to start a new year! A muffled voice growled an unintelligible response through the door. Stewart took a deep breath, opened the door a crack, and peered around its corner. A whiff of sick bay alcohol puffed out at him. Chief Farmer, known as Porky behind his back, was dressed in clean, albeit wrinkled, wash khakis. He squatted on his short, steel piano stool facing two angry sailors who were holding their love lives in their hands. Both were smearing the heads of their penises on small, rectangular specimen glasses. Porky didn’t even look up as he pointed his finger at Stewart. “I don’t want to hear it. Take this specimen glass,” he growled, handing him a clean one, “milk down and smear the end of your penis onto it. I’ll check the specimen under the microscope to see if you have gonorrhea.” “Chief, how the fuck could I have the clap? Ain’t had a chance to use it since we left here last October,” complained Stewart. “Stewart, I don’t want any shit outa you. Just do it. I got twenty-seven sailors to check after a hell of a celebration at the Chief’s Club last night.” Stewart took a closer look at the Chief and noticed that the damp towel draped across the back of his neck was nearly sopping wet. His face was a little redder than usual and his eyes were pretty bloodshot. This is not a day to get a shot from him. Lee did as instructed. He was careful to hold the glass by the edge as he’d seen the Chief do and wiped the head of his penis on it like the other sailors had done. The Chief grunted, removed the first specimen from under the microscope, made a note in the deck ape’s Medical Record, and set in the second specimen. Refocusing the microscope, he grunted again, removed that specimen, and made a note in the Laundryman’s Medical Record. Then he took Stewart’s specimen and set it under the microscope. Grunting softly like a pig, he leaned over the desk and made a note in Lee Stewart’s Medical Record, too. Then he straightened up and looked at the three sailors. “You ever hear the joke about good news bad news?” The three sailors nodded hesitantly not sure where this was going. “The good news is you guys don’t have the clap! You can put your toys away now.” He beamed and smiled at them as he said it. Three sailors looked at him in disgust as they stuffed their joy toys back in their pants and buttoned up. We know that! He closed their Medical Records and handed them to Webb for filing. “What you have is a strain brought on by physical stress—say lifting very heavy things. Were any of you on the Depth Charge detail yesterday?” They looked at him and frowned at each other as they thought about it. Stewart recalled seeing the Laundryman but not the deck ape. They all nodded reluctant agreement. “Lifting Depth Charges is not the best exercise in the world. Your bodies rebelled at the weight and leaked a little bit. That’s in way of an explanation. So, you are not infected with a venereal disease and you don’t need a shot of penicillin. However, the bad news is you men have to stay aboard until the leakage stops.” He held up his hands as three angry sailors sucked in their breaths to scream. “Wait. Hold it a second, sailors. You are on light duty today. Come back at liberty call and I’ll check again. If the leakage is absent, you get your card if you don’t have the duty.” He looked at them with a smile in his eyes as he handed them each a light duty chit. “Fellas, it really is in your best interest. Now, get the hell outa here. Webb, send in the next three.” Stewart jammed his white hat back on his head as he left sick bay and headed back to the Radio Shack, taking it slow and easy on the ladder to the 01-deck. What a low blow! Bust my ass to get all the ammo off then gotta stay aboard because I busted my ass. Fat chance of that happening again soon. Stewart walked a little stiff-leggedly into the Radio Shack, grumbling about the injustice of it all. His Leading Petty Officer, Radioman First Class Jimmy Bob James, glanced at him. “I don’t want to hear about it. Liberty call is going at 1100 this morning and I want this placed squared away. Take down all this Christmas tree shit and them Christmas cards, too. Oh, better yet, stack those cards by name and let the guys keep ‘em or toss ‘em. Also, the bright work is shitty.” He paused and looked Stewart up and down. “What the hell are you smiling at?” Stewart handed him his light duty chit with a flourish. “No heavy work, boss, ‘till this leak disappears.” James studied the chit and handed it back. “Okay, scratch the bright work. But get hot on that Christmas stuff, then route the fuckin’ board.” Stewart nodded in understanding. “Anybody want to take a picture of it before I take it down?” “Don’t worry about that shit, Stew. Just get it down and over the side.” “Right, James.” As Stewart unplugged the spruce branch from AC power, spruce needles began dropping from the branch onto equipment, people, and the deck. Three trees had been delivered at sea just before Christmas during their last replenishment off Hungnam. This branch almost had dropped on his head when it fell from one of the trees. The Radio Shack guys had been proud of their unique Christmas decorations. Very carefully, he pulled the string of official U.S. Navy colored indicator lamps from the tree and placed them on the ET’s workbench. Needles were going everywhere. “Dammit, Stewart, I told you to get rid of that shit. Now do it!” Stewart had started to remove the bright bits of tinsel that had been Christmas wrapping paper. One look at James convinced him. He gently placed the entire branch in the trashcan to stop spreading needles all over the deck. Checking the glowering James again, he hastily pulled Christmas cards from the filing cabinet, bulkheads, and overhead, sorting them into piles for the other guys to pick over. There’s my three: Mom and Dad, Ruth—and Betty, of all people. Still don’t understand why she sent me a card, after all the legal crap she’s started. Stewart picked up the clipboard and sorted through the messages that needed initialing and delivery. “James, I’ll route the board first and hold field day afterwards, if that’s okay with you.” James looked up from the message traffic he was checking and pointed to the door. “Go.”