The Night Before Life Goes On

Watch #9

Chief Petty Officer Hall was a pleasant man, tall with a nice face, a thin mustache that looked good on him, smiling eyes, and a jovial nature.  He tried to identify with us, but he didn't try too hard, the way some adults did.  We didn't hang out together and Jess and I were too young to drink beer, legally.  But when we were at his office, we did share jokes, any experiences we had and we smoked cigarettes together.  We asked as many questions as we could but movies were really all we knew.  We knew few nautical terms beyond ship, and anchor.  In spite of how little we really had in common, we were getting along well, our visits were more regular and I was gradually leaning towards the navy, just because of Edgar and this strange new friendship I was developing.  I have not yet mentioned it but I was not raised by my father.  My mother and he had divorced in the months before I was born and I was raised by my mother and my grandmother, until her death in 1961.  I had never met my father, nor talked to him on the telephone, nor exchanged any letters.  This alone left me hungry for male roles, for father figures and I think Chief Hall filled one of those at this moment.

I remember the feeling of being in his Ponca office with Jess and other boys who dropped by, the look of his uniform, the general feeling of the atmosphere, many visual details.  I do not remember any specific things we discussed.  I do not remember any programs we discussed, any promises, seeing a recruiting form or contracts of any kind.  I do not remember when he made the first venture to talk to my mother.  I remember a long talk with her one evening in which she grilled me about what I wanted to do.  I did not honestly know.  I knew I had to find a way out of the downward spiral that I knew I was in.  I knew that if I did not do something, make a big change to get hold of my self, I would only experience more trouble.  Somehow, we pretty well agreed and she gave me permission to enlist in the navy; as we brave sailors would say, "In this man's navy," although I have never figured out what that meant but I've heard John Wayne say it too.

There were some papers signed, I signed a few, my mother signed a few, Chief Hall signed all of them and then some more.  He was in our home, with my mother and me, explaining many things, at a dizzying pace, and I was understanding very little of it.  I felt a whirlwind of emotions: excitement, anticipation, anxiety, joy, sadness and an uncommon amount of fear.  It was not the kind of fear I had felt when I knew I was going to be beat up by a bully, or get a whipping from a teacher; nor was it the same fear I had felt in the last seconds before I had crashed a bicycle, a motor scooter, or fallen out of a tree.  It was deep fear, about the future, and yes, I had buyer's remorse, without even knowing what it was; a nagging feeling in my stomach that I had done something wrong.

It was, as Carie Underwood sang, "The night before life goes on."

More on the next watch.

Stevie Joe Payne