The Lonely War Read Online Free Page B

shame or regret. He simply embraced his warm adoration for Mitchell that, for the moment at least, had chased away his overwhelming isolation.
     
     
    D URING the time spent ashore at the PX and later on a tour of the ship with the other new men, Andrew hardly heard a word Chief Ogden said. He floated in a cloud of Lieutenant Mitchell.
    Ogden guided them through officers’ country, which was the superstructure between the forecastle and the quarterdeck that included the communications shack, the navigation bridge, the fire control station, and the officers’ living quarters. While walking through the navigation bridge, the others stared down onto the forecastle deck, eyeing the two five-inch gun turrets with their twenty-foot barrels pointing out to sea, but Andrew saw only Mitchell, who leaned over the chart table, scribbling on a notepad.
    Andrew inched toward the officer, close enough to once again catch a whiff of sweat-moistened skin lingering under the pleasant odor of talcum powder. His head spun from a rush of emotion jolting up his spine. He wanted more than anything to caress that sunburnt cheek. His hand drifted toward Mitchell, but he stopped himself and quickly turned to face the others.
    Andrew realized that for him to feel complete, he must somehow make the officer return his love. He was aware, of course, that he couldn’t seduce Mitchell, and that the officer would never feel the sexual longing that he felt. But he had experienced an intense connection when they were staring, eye to eye, in the forecastle, and he was confident that Mitchell had felt it too. He vowed to somehow make this officer care for him. That will be enough, he thought. He would allow himself to love this man entirely, if only the officer returned some measure of affection.
    He was playing with fire, he knew. Buddhist teachings state that the flame of human suffering always begins with the spark of desire; his desire for Mitchell would eventually build into a blaze of anguish. But he was willing to accept that future pain so he could momentarily enjoy this delicious rush of love and longing.
    The main problem with his quest, he realized, was the difficulty in creating an intimate friendship with an officer. The Navy maintains a barrier between the ranks of commissioned officers and enlisted men that is more formidable than tempered steel. To the enlisted man, officers are the unquestionable authority aboard ship and must be obeyed even to the death. In order to keep personal feelings from affecting the officer while giving a difficult order to a crewmember, or a crewmember’s personal feelings from getting in the way of following such an order, strict limits were placed on exchanges between ranks in order to keep those personal feeling from developing in the first place. Exchanges between officers and enlisted men were limited to the business and functioning of the ship. Personal banter of any kind was taboo. This device operated constantly, on ship or ashore, in battle and out.
    An immediate sense of danger clung to Andrew as he schemed how to vault over the gulf that separated enlisted men from the officers, like Icarus preparing to leap off a cliff wearing wax wings.

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    April 18, 1942 — 1100 hours
     
    M ITCHELL found Hudson lounging on the port depth-charge rack, smoking a stubby cigar. He beckoned the petty officer with a nod of his head. Hudson tossed his cigar over the side and trailed the lieutenant to the galley, where they grabbed mugs of coffee. They strolled through a passageway to the wardroom and sat facing one another at the officers’ dining table.
    Mitchell opened Hudson’s file as he sipped his coffee. It was traditional Navy coffee, brewed unduly strong, with a pinch of salt. He felt his face tense up as the bitterness made his eyes pool with water. “This bilge will dissolve your fillings.”
    “Ain’t nothin’ like raw Navy joe, sir.” Hudson smirked and gulped a mouthful. His