Although the story is fiction, (with ideas for the storyline taken from tales of several of the author's acquaintances,)  the events describing the actions of the military reflect the policy and procedure of the time.  If you recognize any personal similarities of people described, or names given to them by the author, it is entirely coincidental.  The submarine, SEAHORSE, was a real vessel, though it was NEVER used as a training vessel in Groton or anywhere else.

*****

“Is there a Gerry Young in here?” yelled a sailor into the same 96-bed dormitory barrack in BESSRECSTA where Gerry had spent his first two nights at Groton.

With a deep sigh, turning from dressing his rack, “Right here!” he answered.

“Phone call for ya.”

“Be right there,” he grumbled. Now, who could that be, he wondered? Fifteen minutes earlier, at morning mess, and I woulda missed the call. Now what?

Dreading having to talk with anyone, he picked up the receiver and stated, “Corpsman Gerald Young, here.”

“Hi, Honey. It’s your Gran’ma callin’. How ya doin’?”

“Hi, Gran’ma. Boy! What a surprise, you calling me here! Been thinkin’ ’bout callin’ ya today with some good news,” he tried to project a happy tone, hiding the fear he felt inside. He was thinking fast of the words he had rehearsed for most of the past two weeks, having known full well that this moment would have to happen; he was shaking in his boots, nervous as hell!

“What kind of good news, Gerald?" She only called him 'Gerald' when she was very serious, or when he had done something wrong.

He knew something was up, and his stomach immediately did a couple flip-flops, tying itself into knots with his quaking guts. Sweat began to appear on his forehead, but he tried not to let his nervous concerns be heard in his answer.

“With my surgical experience in ‘New Awe-lens,’ the Navy’s decided to transfer me to a base hospital in Europe, somewhere, instead of …”

“Is that the truth, Honey?” she interrupted with love, knowing from certain experience what the rising tenor of his voice indicated.

“Yes, Ma’am, I’m telling’ ya the truth; don’tcha believe me?” His spirit began to fall, the projection of his voice waning. Awww, shit! She knows something’s wrong!

“No, Honey, I honestly don’t believe you. Since I haven’t heard anything from you for the last month, I was worried; I’ve made a few phone calls -- Department of the Navy, Department of Defense, Senator Graham, Congressman Whitehead -- and I know you’re not telling me the truth …”

“Oh!” was all he could say, barely aloud. He wanted to dig a hole, crawl in, pull it in after himself, and disappear from the face of the Earth.

“… and I know why,” she added. She didn’t sound mad or angry, although she did sound a bit hurt.

“You do?” he asked, just above a whisper. He held back the pain of having lied to the one person he loved more than anyone else in the whole wide world. His knees were shaking. His legs felt as if they could no longer hold his weight. He leaned back into the wall and slid down to sit on the floor of the hallway.

“Yes, Honey, I do. Now what’s this about you going to Europe? Are you really going over there?”

“No, Ma’am. I’m not going to Europe. Not now, anyway.”

“Then why did you say …”

“ ’Cause, Gran’ma …" he took a deep sigh and then dejectedly resigned himself to confessing and perhaps explaining his lie. "… I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want to embarrass you. I didn’t want you to think that I’m some kind of pervert or something. I just wanted to go away for two or three years and, uhh, and just disappear.”

She could hear the tears, the silent crying, the choking in his voice, the regret in his soul.

“You haven’t embarrassed me, Honey. I’ve suspected since you were about eight years old, and really known since you became a teenager.”

“You’ve known? How …?”

“Call it ‘women’s intuition,’ if you want, but even though I didn’t give birth to you, you’ve been like the son I never had. Your mother -- my own daughter -- wasn’t a very loving female figure for you, as much as I hate to say it, and I always figured you’d be attrac… well, I’ve just always known, Honey.”

“I guess she did the best she could, considering my own father, and that drunken s.o.b. she’s with now.”

“Okay, okay, now, enough of that kinda talk, son. When are ya gittin’ out, and what are ya gonna do?”

“Well, if I can pass the Physical, I’ll probably get my papers tomorrow morning, and I was thinking about going out to San Francisco with Frank, and start a new life out there.”

“Frank? Is that the man who’s …?”

“Yes, Ma’am. We’re both getting out at the same time, for the same reason, together.”

“I see,” she dryly commented, then after several seconds' hesitation, she changed the immediate subject. “Can they put you in the brig for this?” He could hear the “wheels” turning in her head; she would call whomever necessary to prevent that from happening! Or, if it did happen first, to get him released as soon as possible.

“No, Ma’am, it’s not a criminal offence …” then, with marked sarcasm and loud enough for everyone in the passageway to hear, he added, “… it’s just a … POSSIBLE … SECURITY … RISK!”

“Then how can …” her voice lost its interest as a Navy Nurse caught his attention, letting him know that the Doctor would see him, 'now!'

“Gotta go now, Gran’ma. The nurse is calling me into the doctor’s office.”

“Okay, Honey. Don’t worry. Everything’ll be fine. And remember that I love ya.”

“I’ll call ya when it’s all over. I love ya, too, Gran’ma. Bye, bye.”

“Corpsman Young?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m ready,” he said, standing up, cradling the receiver into the wall-phone, and following her into the doctor’s offices.

She had him sit on an examination table so she could draw some blood, and afterwards gave him a little plastic cup and asked for a urine sample.

“And leave the door open when you’re in the Head,” she ordered, wanting to make sure that he didn’t fill it from the sink faucet.

Though feeling uncomfortable with that specific direction, he followed her orders. A few moments later when he returned the capped cup to her, she told him to go to the waiting room, two doors down the passageway, and that the doctor would see him shortly.

Stepping into the passageway and turning left toward the waiting room, he saw a familiar name stenciled on the back of a sailor's dungaree shirt. Gerry smiled. No! Actually, he grinned with delight! Zed was polishing the passageway floor. That alone made him happier than he had been at any moment during the past two weeks of hell. Maybe after seeing the doctor, I can catch up with ZED! Oh, ZED, yes! And then he continued with a little prayer of gratitude. Thank you; oh, thank you, Dear Heavenly Father.

On turning left again and entering the waiting room, Gerry saw Frank also entering the waiting area, but from the doorway in the opposite wall, evidently from the doctor’s office.

“How’d it go, Frank?” he asked, not that he really cared to hear the answer, and not that he was all that interested.

“No sweat, Ger. The doctor’s been called away on an attempted suicide, and it’s just a Yeoman Chief Petty Officer in there right now. He took notes on everything we talked about. It was kinda relaxing in there, after everything else I’ve been through the last couple of days.”

“Ya know,” Gerry said, “this is the first time they’ve allowed us to be together, unsupervised, since ‘the inquisition’ two weeks ago.” He had surmised that Frank had been forced into the same interrogations and into the same 'house arrest,' somewhere.

Frank nodded his head in agreement as they sat at opposite ends of a red leather sofa, slightly turned toward each other.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Gerry continued. “I had to sit in that chair for four hours while they questioned me about every …”

“Four hours?” Frank interrupted, barking angrily. “Is that all?”

“Yeah, four hours,” Gerry answered adamantly. “What about you? How long were you there?”

“Fourteen fucking hours in that damn chair! And they wouldn’t even …”

“Fourteen? Why so long, Frank?”

“There was no fucking way I was gonna tell them that I was queer. No way in hell! I lied to’em for so long, I guess I got my stories all fuckin’ screwed up, and started contradicting myself. They got me in a fucking corner and finally broke me down, and then I told’em everything.”

“You asshole!” Gerry scorned.

“They didn’t break you down?” Then without giving Gerry a chance to answer, he continued, “No, I guess they didn’t. Not with your being there for only four hours. You probably told them everything right away.”

“Well, I figured Intelligence is smart enough that if they knew the right questions to ask, they already knew the answers, and just wanted confirmation. So why try to lie my way out of an impossible situation, when the truth would eventually come out, anyway?!”

“Shit!” Frank commented in regret, or disgust! His tone could have meant either. Then he went on, “They didn’t even let me go to the Head during those fourteen fucking hours!”

“They didn’t? What’d you do? Pee in your …”

Gerry was cut off by the Chief Petty Officer as he hurriedly entered the waiting area through the same door that Frank had used.

“Are you Gerald Young?” asked the Chief.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You sailors aren’t supposed to be talking together, alone, until both of you get your discharge papers."

The Chief continued, "That was my fault, letting Hadley leave the doctor’s office without me.” Then turning his attention to Frank, he said, “Now, Frank, you go on about your own business. It shouldn’t be too much longer now before Young, here, gets his papers, and then you can get yours at the same time.”

“Yes, Sir,” Frank replied, then redirecting his attention, said, “See ya later, Jer-with-a-G.” Gerry just nodded as a slight smile came to his eyes and mouth. Frank hurriedly walked out of the waiting room into the passageway and turned to the right.

“Come this way, Young.”

The Chief seemed pleasant enough. He wasn’t barking orders, and he didn’t project any animosity. He almost seemed to be empathetic toward the two sailors.

Gerry followed the Chief into what appeared to be the doctor’s counseling office. Chief sat behind a small desk, piled with papers and other binders.

“Young, why don’t you sit in that recliner over there, stretch back and just try to relax. The doc asked me to interview you and take notes on your answers until he gets here.”

“Okay, Chief. Whatever,” Gerry replied as he sat in the chair, leaned back, and gazed out over the larger desk in front of the window overlooking the review/parade grounds.

“Now then, first question. When did you first find out that you were, uhh, you know?” It was obvious that the Chief was a little nervous asking the question.

“Excuse me, Chief, but I’ve already answered that question to the Interrogation Officer two weeks ago.”

“I know, Gerry, may I call you ‘Gerry’?” Chief asked kindly.

Gerry nodded.

“I know you’ve already answered most of these questions, Gerry, but this session is for the doctor; not for Intelligence, and not for the Interrogation Office.”

“Okay,” Gerry responded, sighing deeply in surrender to whatever red-tape they deemed necessary. “My first real experience was right here in this building, just down the hall, in dormitory A-5, two months ago.”

“I see. But when did you find out, decide, whatever, that you, uhh, wanted to, uhh, be close to men?”

“I don’t know, Chief, I think I was born this way.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, my mother’s told me that when I was a baby -- even as an infant -- I refused to breast-feed, and would cry and push away from any woman who held me. But that I would laugh and smile and cling to any man who held me.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little odd, for a baby, that is?”

“I guess so, Chief. I do remember, oh, I don’t know exactly when it was, but one of my first memories is that of being in bed with my mother.”

“And …?”

“On warm summer nights, she would lay in bed with her legs spread apart. Then she would lay me between her legs with the back of my head laying … you know where.” There was disgust in his voice, saying this. He continued, “ Her scent, the scent of a woman, is, I’m sure, another thing that made me the way I am.”

“I’m so sorry about that, Gerry,” the Chief said, holding his hands together, bouncing them back and forth against his lips. “Let’s go on to something else, shall we?”

“Please!” Gerry pleaded.

“Did you ever do anything, in a sexual way, with any other boy when you were a kid?”

“Well, the next, uhhh, sexual thing I remember is, uhhh, after Mom remarried. His name was Roland, and he had a brother, Karl, about fifteen years old.”

“How old were you then?”

“Seven.”

“And what happened?”

“Well, we moved from New Awe-lens to Roland’s family’s cattle farm in Oklahoma, and Karl sorta became like an older brother to me. I really looked up to him. He taught me a lot about the farm.”

Gerry had been looking at the Chief, answering the last few questions, but once he began talking about Karl and the farm, he lay back on the recliner, closed his eyes, and began talking as the fond memories came back.

“One afternoon, after we had finished our chores around the farm, Karl and I went up into the hay-loft above the cows’ stalls and pitched down some hay to them.

“When we finished that, there was nothing else left to do, so Karl took off his shirt and lay down on a pile of hay, with the afternoon rays of sun shining down on him through the window-like opening on the front of the barn. I sat down not far from him, and we talked for a while about … I don’t know what. He was chewing on a piece of straw, and I was copying him, my older brother that I never had.

“The straw was dry and tasted dusty, so I started twisting it in my fingers. I noticed Karl’s eyes were closed, so I made light little strokes across his chest. His hand shooed-away what I guess he thought was a bug. I laughed, he opened his eyes and saw me about to do it again, and he said, ‘Stop that.’ He closed his eyes again.

“He didn’t sound mad or angry, so I continued. Then he pretended to be angry, pushed me over onto the pile of hay and threw himself on top of me. With one hand he mussed up my hair and said, ‘I told you not to do that anymore.’ Then he lay back down again.”

“Was that it? That’s all that happened? That’s not sexual,” the Chief commented.

“Oh, I know, Chief. Not finished with the story yet.”

“Oh. Okay. Go on.”

“Well, I then asked him if he was mad at me and he told me that he wasn’t. Then he closed his eyes again, just relaxing, I guess, and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

So I picked up another piece of straw and started making very light strokes across his stomach just above his belt. He didn’t say or do anything, so I kept it up.

“He just opened his eyes and raised up on his elbows, watching what I was doing. After a little bit of time, I noticed the bulge in his Wranglers startin’ to get bigger. I asked him what was happenin’ there, and he said, ‘Nuthin.’ But the more I toyed with the straw, the bigger it got.

“Then I told him that I’d never seen a necked man before, and asked if I could see what he looked like without his pants on.”

“And what did he say? Or do?” Chief asked.

“He looked at me sorta funny, then said, ‘Okay.’

“He undid his buckle, unzipped his pants, and slid them and his jockey-shorts down below his butt, and then he lay back on the hay.”

It seemed the Chief was getting interested by this time. He had even stopped taking notes. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk and asked, “So what happened then?”

“I reached out and held his ‘thing’ in my hand, and when I touched him, it tightened up. I pulled it to one side, released it, and it sprang back, stickin’ straight up. Then I pushed it to the other side, released it , and it sprang back, stickin’ straight up, again. This was fun.

“Suddenly I saw a picture in my head and said, ‘Uncle Karl?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know how to kiss it?’

‘What?’

‘Do you know how to kiss it?’

‘Nooooooo.’

‘Like this.’

“I kissed the head of his penis with my lips, then ran my tongue around the head and neck of it. Each time I did something else, it would give a little jerk. I heard him making funny, soft little sounds. I raised my head and looked at him. His eyes were closed again, and he had just a hint of a smile on his face.

“I opened my mouth as wide as I could and put him inside, letting my lips slide down his length as far as I could. Then I began doing an up and down motion with my head.

“His sounds got louder and louder until suddenly, he yanked my head off of him, stood up, and hurried to the back of the hay loft, telling me to stay where I was. I did what Uncle Karl told me to, but soon, I could see him, with his back to me, slightly bent over, and I thought he was hitting himself in the stomach.

“I've thought about it over the years, and sorta figured out that he was masturbating to climax what I had started. But I do know that at that age, just seven years old, I knew instinctively how to perform oral sex on a man.”

“Had you ever seen it done before?” the Chief asked.

“No, Chief.”

“Did he kinda urge you to do something, tell you how to do something, or what to do?”

“No, Chief, I just did it. I just did what came naturally! And yes, before you ask, I enjoyed doing it. It made me happy, and Uncle Karl certainly seemed to like it.”

Chief sat back and quickly scribbled some notes on his pad, then said, “I think I need a drink of water. How about you?”

“Water would be fine, but could I also have a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, Gerry. The cooler and paper cups are over there in the corner, and I’ll get the coffees. How do you take it?”

“Like I like my men -- straight and black,” he hornswoggled the Chief, who quickly turned and gave a blank look, as if to say, I don’t believe you just said that!

“Just joking,” Gerry shot back, “but I do like my coffee , straight and black, and, hot!

The Chief just chuckled as Gerry went to take a leak in the doctor’s Head … errr … restroom.

(End of Chapter Three)