The Bus

As we were flaking the line out on deck, we saw a big silver Mercedes pull onto the pier. When the car got closer we could see that it contained two occupants. The person on the passenger side leaned over and kissed the driver. We were all perplexed as to who this might be. When I saw the gray shock of hair, and heard the gravelly voice say “goodbye dear”, my heart sunk with a quickness. Yes, it was the Chief. Other than the fact that he was in different clothes he looked none the worse for the wear. He strutted up the brow with a smile on his face and a cigar in his mouth. With a wink at me he turned and headed down towards the CPO mess.

The Chief never acknowledged that anything had happened that night. I spent another miserable month peeling spuds and washing pots, and each time the Chief saw me with no one else around he gave me a wink and a grin, and nothing else.
A year later at the Chief’s retirement ceremony, after he had been officially retired, he pulled me off to the side. “Shipmate” he told me, “always remember and never forget, youthful energy is no match for age and experience.”

To this day, I have never forgotten.