“Security sent us here,” Will told the receptionist in headquarters.

“Yes,” the young woman replied.   “They phoned to say you'd be checking in.   Which one of you is Benson?”

“I am, Ma'am.”

“You're to go to the infirmary to have your wound examined.   Take the elevator to the basement and follow the signs.” She looked at Sean and Billy and asked, “Wilcox?”

“That's me, Ma'am.'

“You're to go to the infirmary also.   You’re to see Doctor O'Grady.  He will let me know when he’s ready for you.”

“But I'm not sick or wounded!” Sean exclaimed.   “Why do I have to see a doctor?”

“I don't know,” the woman said officiously.   “I'm just relaying a message I got from Security.  You can wait here in the lobby until he’s ready to see you.”

Will and Billy were curious about Sean's having to see a doctor but Sean was perplexed and angry at what he thought was “another God damned Navy fuckup.”

In the Infirmary, Will was ushered immediately into an examining room.   A doctor in a crisp, white lab coat and the obligatory stethoscope handing loosely around his neck soon appeared.  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully.  “I'm Doctor Klein and I'd like to look at your wound.”

Will raised his pants leg to reveal the bandage that had been applied in Honiara.  The doctor removed it and spent what Will thought was a very long time scrutinizing the ugly gash.  “When did this happen?” asked the doctor.

“Five days ago, Sir.  I was on a launch that hit a mine near a small island northeast of Guadalcanal.  The bandage was put on at the Guadalcanal hospital after we were rescued the day before yesterday.”

“Five days?” the doctor exclaimed.  “Are you sure about the timing, young man?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The healing is remarkable.  There will be a scar but I don't think you'll have any problem.  You're very lucky.”

“I had good care, Sir.  We had no antiseptic but a team-mate — a country boy — knew how to treat it.  He put Aloe Vera leaves on it until I could see a doctor.”

“I've heard about things like that,” the doctor remarked.  “But I've never seen such convincing evidence of its effectiveness.”

Emboldened by the doctor's ready acceptance of alternative medicine, Will said, “I suppose it wasn't only the Aloe Vera.  I remembered something from a class I took in college.  We had no sterile water — in fact, no water at all — and no alcohol so I asked him urinate on it to flush out any infectious bacteria.  He didn't want to but I insisted.  Maybe that did some good.”

“No doubt,” the doctor said with a grin.  “I'll just put on a new bandage ...  as a precaution.  If there's any swelling, redness, or pain, come back to see me.  Otherwise, keep the bandage on for about three days.  Oh, one more thing.  No showers or baths until the bandage comes off.” Will immediately thought of the highly erotic shower and orgasms he had enjoyed with Billy the night before but, of course, couldn't say anything about it to the doctor.

Will returned to the lobby and was not surprised to find Sean and Billy.  Nor was he surprised that they seemed to be ignoring each other.  Billy jumped up and asked, “Y'all okay, Will?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Will grinned.  Turning to Sean, he asked, “How about you?”

“I'm all right.  Except I'm pissed off.  I'm not sick or wounded so why do I have to see a doctor? I'll tell you why.  It's the fuckin' Navy, screwing up paperwork and orders ...  making me plant my ass here and wait to see a doctor I don't need.  Fuckin' Navy!”

Will and Billy forced themselves to ignore Sean's grumbling and his inconsiderate profanity within earshot of the receptionist.  They settled into chairs where Billy inquired about what the doctor said.

“He said I'm fine.  And he was astonished at how quickly I'm healing.  There's no doubt your makeshift first aid — the Aloe Vera leaves — and ...  ah ...  flushing out the wound was what made it possible.”

Sean was unwilling to concede that an ignorant hick and a sick-minded snob deserved any credit.  He grumbled, “Or maybe it was nothing but luck!”

Fifteen minutes later, the receptionist said, “The doctor can see you now, Wilcox.”  Sean rose from his chair, marched across to the receptionist's desk, and demanded, “So where's Doctor O'Reilly?”

The receptionist was taken aback by the aggressive tone but said professionally, “His name is O'Grady and he said he would come out to get you momentarily.”

It wasn't much longer before a middle-age man in uniform appeared and asked, “Wilcox?”

“'Bout damn time,” Sean grumbled.  His irritation has metastasized to something between anger and rage, which would soon be his downfall.

Doctor O'Grady turned toward Will and Billy and said, “This may take a while, gentlemen.  You're free to wait here or leave.  If you leave, report to the Duty Officer just down the hall to your right.  Wilcox, would you come with me, please?”

Will and Billy discussed their options briefly.  Billy was completely willing to accept Will's suggestion, “Let's leave.  I've had my fill of Sean's bitching.”

“Come in,” the Duty Officer said when Will knocked on his door.  “Have a seat.” He reviewed a note pad briefly before continuing, “I'm told that you're both assigned to the Brighton.  She's due back in port on Saturday.  I think I have some good news for you.  It's the middle of the week and I really don't have anything to keep you busy for three days.  What that means is that you have three days of leave.  But be back on base at 0700 hours on Saturday.  You can join your shipmates then.”

The broad smiles on both young seamen didn't surprise the Duty Officer.  What sailor wouldn't welcome an unexpected leave? What he didn't know, however, was the full reason for those smiles.  Both Billy and Will were elated that they had three days to make love.

<><><><><> 

Unlike the secret lovers, Sean was dealing with what he felt was an intolerable situation and he didn't handle it well.  Doctor O'Grady was cordial and pleasant but Sean's frustration, anger, and impatience was barely contained.  He was more assertive than would be appropriate when addressing a senior officer when he asked, “What's this all about, Doc? I'm not sick and not hurt so why was I sent to see you?”

“I just need to get some information from you, Sean.  May I call you Sean?”

“That's my name, isn't it?” he replied with obvious sarcasm.

“First of all, I'd like you to tell me what happened.  Start with being assigned to the search team and then about your time on the island and rescue.”

“I've already told Security!  Can I go now?”

“The information I got from Security was not very detailed.  I'd like to know more about your mission.”

“Anything to get this over with!” Sean sighed.  “The Captain told me to go with Benson and Simpson to look for a downed pilot on an island.”

“And how did you feel about that?”

“Confused!” If Sean had been calmer and more rational, he would not have vented his bruised feelings so freely.  Nor would he have stretched the truth so much to punish those who abused his outsized ego.  “Why was Benson put in charge?  He's a greenhorn with no sea experience.  Worse, he's responsible for botching the mission because being leader went to his head and he acted like he was God Almighty.” Sean continued his rant as he embellished his fictional account of Will's autocratic domination and Billy's misguided loyalty.  He concluded his unbelievable tirade with, “So that's what happened.  Can I leave now?  Or do you want to look at my tonsils or something?”

Doctor O'Grady chuckled and said, “No.  I'm not a medical doctor.”

Sean was only temporarily confused but recognized the situation for what it was and blurted out, “You mean you're a shrink?  I'm not crazy!  You should be talking to the other two: Hitler and Mortimer Snerd!”

“I didn't say you're crazy, Sean.  It's just that your story is quite unlike the account given by your shipmates.  More significantly, you contradicted yourself several times ...  almost as if you were making it up as you went along.  And a few of the things you said are highly improbable.  I'm guessing that the stress of being stranded and facing possible death has distorted your memory and your thinking.  As a consequence, you've focused your frustration and anger on the other members of the team.  It's a relatively common reaction.  It doesn't mean you're mentally ill.  It does, however, mean that you need counseling.  I'm going to recommend that you be removed from the ship's roster both to prevent any violence or other trouble and, more importantly, to see that you get the counseling you need.”

Sean was livid.  He stood and shouted angrily, “You're punishing me when it's those two bastards that should be kicked out of the Navy?”

Doctor O'Grady spoke calmly.  “It's not punishment, Sean.  It's therapy.  It's to HELP you.  When you've proven your readiness, you'll be returned to active duty.”

The doctor had said Sean was not crazy but what happened next proved him wrong.  Sean screamed, “God damn sonofabitch!  You think you're so fucking smart?  You think you can tell the difference between the truth and the lies they told?  You don't know shit from Shinola!  I'm outta here!  Think you can stop me?  Try it!  You'll never know what hit you!”

The doctor maintained his calm and said, “Sit down, Sean.”  His request was ignored so the doctor continued, “If you leave now without my permission, you'll never get off the Base.  Security will find you and lock you up.  Is that what you want?”

In spite of his hyper agitated state, Sean recognized the futility of leaving.  He would surely be thrown in the brig and face the possibility of discharge from the Navy.  He fell into a chair.  His strategy for getting revenge on Will and Billy was unsuccessful.  He had failed.  The muscular, macho sailor began to cry.

INTERNAL MEMORANDUM

CONFIDENTIAL

TO:       Base Commander Washburn

FROM: Dr.  T.  O'Grady

SUBJ:   Sean Wilcox

I have interviewed Seaman Sean Wilcox extensively about his experiences as a member of a special team dispatched from the USS Brighton to search for a downed Air Force pilot in the South Pacific near Guadalcanal.

Based on obvious fabrications in his account of the mission, upon clearly evident symptoms of stress, and upon a particularly aggressive outburst at the end of the interview, it is my professional opinion that he is currently mentally unstable and unfit for sea duty.

He is now in custody by Base Security pending your decision on appropriate action.  I strongly recommend psychiatric evaluation and therapy.  I do not make this recommendation lightly.  Without treatment, he is a potential threat to others and possibly to himself.

As Will and Billy exited the main gate of the Base with three-day passes tucked into their pockets, Billy asked, “Whatcha wanna do now, Will?”

Will flashed a wicked grin and said, “I'm sure something is bound to come up.”

Iatia’s inspiration and editing cannot be ignored.  Thanks, my friend.