My Journal by Harriman Nelson- Lean on Me

51

Home
89
90
91
92
88
93
87
86
85
84
83
82
81
80
79
78
77
76
75
74
72
73
71
70
69
68
67
66
65
64
63
62
61
60
59
58
57
56
55
54
53
52
51
50
49
48
47
46
45
44
43
42
41
40
39
38
37
36
35
34
33
32
31
30
29
28
27
26
25
24
23
22
20
21
19
18
17
16
15
14
13
12
11
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2

My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

51

 

“I still think you’re wasting time, Harriman,” Jiggs scolded me on the monitor as I had breakfast in the Nose.

“The Navy’s agreed to let me repaint Seaview here in Naples before we head to Spain. We’re good for the money and manpower, they know. We’ll pay for the paint, and supply the man power.”

“You can’t fool me. You just want to be near Crane.”

“Jiggs...”

“Nelson-Crane, Nelson-Crane, Nelson-Crane! Damn it, man. He’s still a Crane!”

“Even you know that sea water might damage our hull without the protection of paint.”

“Balderdash, and you know it. Your hull’s a titanium alloy. Nothing can damage it. At  least not for a couple of months. You should be back in Santa Barbara. Ames told me you have seventeen prospective new clients for your services and they’re getting antsy waiting for any proposed dates. They might go elsewhere if you delay too long. You really want to forgo that kind of income?”

“If their proposals are worth looking at, I can wait, and they can wait. It’s not as if there’s a surfeit of oceanographic businesses out there that have my resources.”

“Don’t get too big for your britches, my friend. There are a  number of universities and oceanographic agencies with deep sea submersibles.”

“True. But we have something they don’t have.”

“Granted, you have the flying sub.”

“I meant Lee.”

“Did you finally talk him into resuming command, then?”

“Not yet, but there was something he said that makes me think he’s at least considering it. Seriously considering it.”

“Well, I hope so. I might have a few grievances with his command style, but I haven’t been able to argue with the results. So, where’s the prodigal son  off to now?”

“Greece.”

“Part of the tour or off to see that Grecian girl you told me about from the Zeraff affair?

“Both.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Sharkey interrupted, “but um, we were kind of wondering...the guys called from the paint shop on the base. They want to know what color you want, since this is gonna’ be a full paint job in the dry dock here.”

“Good God, sailor,” Jiggs sputtered. “Where's your brain? All U.S. Navy subs are gray.”

“Begging the admiral's pardon, but Seaview's a civilian boat and they got lots of colors in stock here. For boats, shore properties, and the like. And…they got…lead based red.”

I buried my head in my hands, then said firmly, “No.”

“But...”

“I said no. We are not going to paint her red.”

“But it’s a real nice red sir,” Sharkey insisted, “I saw it. Almost matches the skipper’s little red car back home....”

“We are NOT painting Seaview red just to please some fantasy Crane has about a Corvette Red Seaview!”

“Ah, Harry?” Jiggs said, “you called him Crane too.”

“I can call Lee anything I like! You can’t. Chief, tell the men to purchase Navy Gray.”

“But maybe a change would be nice," Sharkey insisted.”

“We may be civilian for the most part,  but I don’t think the Navy Reserve would appreciate red, yellow, purple, green or any other ridiculous color!”

“But red might help to get the skipper back….”

“Even you know that a man like the captain wouldn’t consider what she looks like in making that kind of decision, now, do you? Get going. Gray.”

“Aye sir,” he answered sadly and fled.

“A red submarine,” Jiggs laughed. “A career submarine officer and Crane wants a red submarine....”

“Corvette Red,” I corrected. “I understand there’s a difference.”

“One day you’ll have to include his obsession in your memoirs, if you haven’t already. But make sure you classify your book as fiction. Nobody would ever believe some of the things you’ve been through, especially with Cra...Nelson–Crane. Happy now? So, what’s the cook going fix for you today?”

“Considering we’re still offshore Italy, and Lee’s off to Greece, I’m not sure.”

“Well, tell Cookie to lay off the pasta. You’re getting fat.”

“I am not!”

“Looks like you’ve gained at least ten pounds.”

“Dry dock’s ready for us,” Chip called from the Control Room.

“Very well,” I answered via the intercom, then, "well, Jiggs, they’re waiting for us. At least you can rest easy in that Seaview will come out in plain drab old Gray.”

“Thank goodness.”

 

As I sat alone on my ‘porch’, Seaview secured as the water was being pumped out of the soon to be ‘dry’ dock, I couldn’t help feeling  a wee bit guilty. (Did I just sound like an Irish leprechaun?) It was just too ridiculous to let myself feel that way. How many times had I told Lee that his dream of a red Seaview was utter nonsense? Absurd. Totally absurd.

 Just because Lee wanted it, it didn’t mean I should cave into his request. I’m his business partner as much as he is mine. But I built her to a few Navy specs, so my decision to keep Seaview a Gray Lady has more clout than a fanciful dream of his!

Of course I want him to be happy, and I damn sure want him to resume command. But I can’t sacrifice my principles just because the men think it could help sway their skipper back.

Seaview is Gray Lady and will remain so.

 

“Begging your pardon,” Cookie interrupted my musings, “but what harm would it do, I mean, painting the boat red? The Chief says you still have time to change the paint order and….”

“Enough!” I roared. “I’ll hear no more about this! When we reach Spain, we will meet the captain with a gray boat, is that clear?”

“Yes sir. Er…we’re gonna’ pipe him aboard as her master, then?” Cookie asked, excited.

“Unknown. Very well, what do you have planned for lunch?”

“Grilled Cheese Sandwiches.”

“Not very ethnic,” I said, raising my eyebrow, “considering where we are, is it?”

“Yeah, well, the skipper always likes…er…liked em’….”

Yes, Lee always liked them. God willing, he will again, aboard as her captain.

I gathered my composure and headed to the Wardroom. But the men’s words had hit a nerve. Who would care, really? The Navy might laugh at us, but we had few official dealings with them. I was the reason we wouldn’t paint the boat red.

Me.

Words from the past began to haunt me. Words I’d said myself. About being Lee’s ‘friend, enemy, partner, rival, big brother, blood brother, and that sometimes I’d like to bash his head in.’

Yes that pretty much summed up our relationship, only now I was his father as well.

And just what would be so bad about a red submarine? It would make Lee happy, that was a given. Could I in all honesty refuse him that?

Yes! Damn it, yes! (Thank God I came to my senses before I succumbed to my feelings.)

“Excuse me, sir,” Chip asked, rising from his seat in the Wardroom, as I entered,  “you okay?”

“No, Lad. No I’m not,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“These will cheer you up,” Chip said, indicating the platter of hot Grilled Cheese Sandwiches on the table.

“Looks wonderful, Cookie,” I said, hiding the fact that I had no appetite for the guilt I still felt about my correct decision. And it was a correct decision, I knew that.

Wasn’t it?

 

Entry #52