TRWD40

My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
40

I barely noticed Emmie this morning. Despite my own interpretation of Lee’s dream, my ‘angelic visitation’ had made me more on edge that ever.
Not knowing Lee’s fate seemed almost worse than planning for his life or death. If I had told him about my experience, Lee would probably just say taking on the presidency was no more or less a risk than what we’d all taken when we first put on the uniform of our country. He’d probably also add his stints with ONI.
I was in a no win situation.
I needed coffee.
I also decided to watch the latest news Sparks was sure to have tuned to the monitor while Emmie was in the shower.
“…But Ronald Nelson is right!” a man was shouting outside of a popular Santa Barbara restaurant.
“…Who does this Nelson-Crane think he is, anyway?” a woman about to get into a New York City Yellow Cab said.
“…A man who does his duty when asked!” the cab driver responded, “He’s not a coward like those lily-livered so-called substitutes are!”
The woman waved over a different cab in a huff.
A ranch-hand leaning against a fence from wherever was telling whichever reporter was asking that putting a man into the presidency without an election wasn’t American.
“…You didn’t say that when he was asked and took the oath last time!” one of his colleagues near him said.
“…But an election was scheduled for after. This guy’s going to take the office for four years! It’s un-American! Maybe unconstitutional.”
“…Put a sock in it! It’s constitutional if congress asked him!”
The screen returned to the anchor desk.
“…In spite of similar dissent, over eighty percent of population polled across the country think Nelson-Crane taking over for President Avery is a good idea. His famous, though damaged red submarine is currently skirting the northern most western tip of the Scottish Isles and will be submerging sometime later this morning for its trip across the Atlantic to Washington for in inauguration. Already thousands of patriotic Americans are making their way to the nation’s capitol for the historic event….”
Historic, yes. And dangerous.
“Shower’s yours, sweetheart,” Emmie said, emerging from the head in her fuzzy robe and hot curlers in her hair. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help being worried about this new chapter in Lee’s life.”
“He’ll handle it fine, dear.”
“Yes, I suppose…”
“Oh, look at that,” she said of the new report about George Washington’s ring. “I don’t care if it’s his. It’s rather ugly. I guess the saying’s true. One person’s trash is another’s treasure.”
“Indeed,” I said remembering how Lee valued it.

It wasn’t long before I’d completed my ablutions and dressed, and Emmie and I headed to the Wardroom for breakfast.
Mrs. Crane, upon seeing us enter, got up, left her unfinished breakfast, glared at me and left. At least Winston greeted us with his waggling tail.
“Sorry, Harry,” Lee, at the counter apologized for her. He was freshly scrubbed, in uniform, and smelling of disinfectant and mint mouthwash, pouring himself some coffee. “Mom’s still of the opinion that you should have talked me out of my decision.”
Joe, standing next to him, handed him a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and buttered toast.
“Jackson, I thought I told you not to feed him that,” Will stressed firmly from his seat. “Yes, the GI tests this morning showed even more improvement, but he’s still not that he’s ready for such a heavy meal or…”
All of a sudden we were interrupted by the sound of a crash from beyond the ‘tween through’, probably from the Crew’s Mess. The noise of things breaking, and men yelling grew louder before Lee, Joe, Jiggs, Will, and I, and of course, Winston could get through to the main event in the Crew’s Mess.
Just as Lee entered, having been helped somewhat by Joe, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a fork came flying through the air with other pieces of assorted cutlery and crockery, some of which hit them both.
A fork barely clattered to the deck from Lee’s forearm when I ordered the men to attention.
All snapped to, except for Riley.
“Oh God, like the skip’s bleeding!”
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Lee said, “it’s just a nick, and you’re at attention, Riley.”
Riley snapped too, but his eyes were as big as saucers as blood dribbled from the pricks in Lee’s sleeve.
“What the devil’s been going on in here?” Lee demanded as Will attended to the wound, grabbing napkins from a table, rolled up Lee’s sleeve and began to staunch the puncture wounds.
Everyone began to talk at once and Lee held up his other arm for silence.
Immediate compliance.
“Kowalski,” Lee said, sitting down on the nearest chair, “you’re the senior crewman in here. What happened?”
“It was the news, sir,” Ski said. “Evans and his buddies agreed with Ronald Nelson. He said some stuff….”
“Go on.”
“Well, most of us disagreed with him and one thing led to another and…”
“We had to defend you Skipper!” Riley interrupted.
“You do realize, sailor,” Jiggs said, “that you’re still at attention?”
“I’ll handle the discipline on this boat, Admiral Starke,” Lee said formally.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Go on, Riley,” Lee said.
“Well, like, we just couldn’t let Evens keep bad mouthing you, and gloating about what the creep Nelson said, sir. And when Evans wouldn’t shut up, well, I punched him. And he punched back, and everyone took sides and we like, got carried away….”
“Your altercation could have harmed all of us!” Jiggs fumed.
“Had the utensils like that fork, been in anyone’s mouth?” Will demanded.
The men began to look at each other trying to remember. Then they all started to talk at once.
“Never mind, Will,” Lee said. “Disinfectant will kill any cooties that got into the punctures. Now listen to me, men. I heard Ronald Nelson’s interview but there was nothing he said to merit an all-out brawl.”
“He ridiculed you!” Riley said, “He said you thought you were God! He….”
“I know what he said….You know, I’d have thought my crew would have had the sense to address any disagreements according to the articles of this boat. Riley? I’m holding you as the instigator of this fracas as you threw the first punch and you’re all on report for brawling. Now, police up this mess so Cookie and his specialists don’t have to. For the record, while I appreciate some of you coming to my defense, this was not the way to handle it, was it?”
“No, sir,” Riley and more than half of the crew admitted.
“Very well. And to clear things up, I don’t think I’m God. No way near it. But I do think I’m best man for the presidency right now, even though it’s no secret I don’t want the job. I don’t want to put you or Mr. Morton or anyone into such a big change of circumstance. But I do want to protect our country, even Ronald’s constitutional right to call me whatever he wants. And your constitutional right to object. But in future, I don’t want any of you to come to blows over a little difference of opinion. Understood?”
‘Ayes’ and ‘yes sir’s’ all around.
“If you’re done chewing them out, Skipper,” Will said, “I’d like to get you to Sick Bay to clean and bandage this wound. Maybe get some of this ketchup and scrambled eggs off you. Some on your hair, so we’ll have to scrub the patches again too.”
Without a word, Lee turned to head out the doorway but stopped and turned, scraping a finger over some scrambled egg on his shirt.
“I don’t suppose I can taste this?” Lee smirked.
“Out!” Will ordered, pushing him out.
Seconds after the crewmen began to clean things up.

Joe had to pick up Winston to keep him from following Lee, and with Jiggs and , returned to the Wardroom, while I had a grin on my face.
“What’s so funny?” Jiggs asked me.
“Long story. Let’s just say I’d been thinking about trying to talk Lee out of his decision. But now, I think I would have been pretty darn foolish if I had.”