Shore Leave As A Midshipman

We were an unlikely bunch, four teenagers from different parts of the country thrown together on our first cruise as midshipmen. The time was July 1954, almost fifty years ago as I write this. We were among two hundred other First and Third Class midshipmen assigned to the USS New Jersey (BB 63). I made up the names of my friends, and you'll find out why later.

Al Viers, a Dutchman attending the University of Michigan on a Naval Reserve Officer Training (NROTC) scholarship, fit most preconceptions of the Dutch: solid, reserved, stubborn, and hardworking. Al could be depended upon, and he became a friend.

Kevin Conner attended Boston College on an NROTC scholarship. Kevin worked hard at being Irish. He could be talkative, funny, charming, and aggravating at the same moment. One never knew when he was serious or teasing; often, his compliments were veiled put-downs. He was our risk-taker and usually in trouble. On this cruise, he accumulated more demerits than any other 3rd Class midshipman on the USS New Jersey. In spite of all that, I liked him; he was a friend.

Jimmy Gardner attended the University of Virginia and, like Al and Kevin, on an NROTC scholarship. Jimmy was quiet, reserved, dignified, and very neat. He had a droll sense of humor and a bright, questioning mind that seemed to annoy our training officers. Coming from the South, I felt that I understood Jimmy better than either Al or Kevin.

I was the fourth man in our watch section and different only in that I attended the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland, as an appointee from Alabama. I don't know how they would have described me.

We sailed across the Atlantic under steam power for 15 days before anchoring at Vigo, Spain,a famous port on the Northwest coast of Spain. Columbus sailed from Vigo, and much of the gold from the Americas passed through this seaport. Having a deep draft, the New Jersey was forced to anchor in the stream. Our motor launches ferried liberty parties to and from shore.

During the thirty-minute ride to the landing, we talked about what to do for the next ten hours (1300-2300) of liberty. Jimmy suggested that we take the bus tour organized by the Chaplain and Special Services Officer. The tour was free and would take us around the city and surrounding countryside, stopping at interesting historical sites. Disembarking from the launch, we began walking across the street toward the waiting tour buses.

"Where are you going, Kevin?" asked Al, noticing that Kevin wasn't following.

"I'll find us a cab. Taxi drivers know the best whorehouses."

Jimmy turned to me and said, "We never talked about that; besides, isn't 1300 (1:00 p.m.) too early?"

Kevin butted in, waving down a passing taxi, "Heck, no! If we wait until later, the girls will be picked over."

Buying four bottles of cheap wine off a nearby street vendor's cart, we piled into a small battered Siat (Spanish/Fiat) taxi and set out for adventure.

The sun was bright and sharp. The air was clear and cool but smelled fishy. The sky was a cloudless Wedgwood blue. We were happy and excited. This was to be our first break in over sixteen days crisscrossing the Atlantic while practicing on emergency man—overboard drills, firefighting, and anti—aircraft targeting.

When aboard ship, we worked 18-hour days and never got more than four hours of sleep. When not working, we took part in drills or stood one-in-four watches. The Navy was indoctrinating us into shipboard routine on two principles: the devil finds work for idle hands; and the more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed in war. Boiling this down means one can never work enough or drill too much on emergency and battle procedures.

After two weeks, we moved like zombies in a semi-exhausted state. We were more than ready to bust loose from our floating steel prison and endless drills.

It was during this intense shipboard training that Kevin, Jimmy, Al, and I bonded. Being in the same watch section, we were together eighteen to twenty hours daily. We studied our navigation, engineering, gunnery, and ship handling assignments as a team. We helped each other on work details and, usually, ate together. We talked, kidded, and joked on boring mid-watches (midnight to 4:00 a.m.), exchanging first-year college tales.

Kevin entertained us often with lurid stories of his encounters with the girls of Boston. He could also be infuriating; if Kevin detected a weakness, he'd kid the person unmercifully. For instance, once when Al and I were on watch in the main engine room, I noticed that Al had disappeared. The space was hot (120° F) and noisy. I thought Al might be sick and resting somewhere or had gone topside for fresh air. The Chief on duty gave me permission to look for him. I climbed down to the next lower level and began my search. I noticed a moving flashlight beam lower down still. I found Al on his hands and knees crawling along the many pipes running fore and aft, apparently looking for something.

I tapped him on the back and yelled above the mechanical din, "Al, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find that damn golden rivet so I can copy the nameplate data off it."

I laughed and said, "Al, there is no golden rivet. You've fallen for the oldest trick in the Navy. Someone is pulling your leg. Who told you to find it?"

"Midshipman 1st Class Reid, that SOB."

Later on the mess deck, Al, still fuming, told Kevin. What a big mistake that was. Kevin ragged him for the rest of the cruise.

Back to the present and bouncing along in the crowded little Siat, we were in high spirits. Deep down, however, I felt uneasy. Never mind the morality of our intentions; we were choosing to ignore well-founded warnings about exposure to venereal diseases. The Medical Department's movies and lectures had been graphic and sobering.
Also, I had never been with a woman. I understood the biology but little else. I was too timid to voice my reservations. Had I been more mature or sophisticated, I might have suspected that my friends were just as conflicted.

After a short ride, we arrived at a five-story apartment building on a tree-lined street in a quiet neighborhood. There were no people in sight. When Al paid the driver, he received a business card with his change. On the card, our driver had scribbled, "Madame Teresa, numero 201." Pointing to the door and waving goodbye, he drove off. We entered, talking and laughing too loud, and stomped up the stairs at the end of the hall. Finding #201, Kevin pushed the doorbell. In a moment, the door cracked open.

An old woman in a long, shapeless, black dress with a lace shawl over her shoulders motioned us to come in. Inside, there was a sofa, two chairs, several small seascapes on the walls, a table with a telephone, and a side door leading to a hallway. A slight breeze from an open window over the sofa freshened the air. The surroundings were clean and comfortable and not at all what I had expected—just a room of casual intimacy. Other than the chirping of birds outside, it was quiet. The old woman entered through the side door.

After several long minutes, the door reopened, and a tall woman, dressed in a tight-fitting black dress, attractive, and appearing to be in her mid-thirties, entered. She said, "I'm Teresa. Are you Kevin?" She spoke in excellent English with a slight British accent.

Kevin said, "We're Americans off the USS New Jersey. Do you...Do you have girls?"

"That depends. Are you nice young men and can you afford my girls?" she answered, scanning us up and down as critical as an inspecting officer on parade. In our dark blue, double-breasted uniforms with white shirts, black ties, and polished black shoes, we must have passed. Clearly, Madam Teresa was in control.

Looking me in the eye, she asked, "Have you ever had a woman?"

I thought, "My God, how could she know?" I felt my face flush and I lied, "Of course."

Madam Teresa continued, "It doesn't matter. My girls will teach you how to please a woman."

She told Jimmy, Kevin, and Al to sit down. With a wink, she took my hand as my so-called buddies whistled, jeered, and catcalled, and led me down the hall to another door. Knocking and entering, she said to a young girl sitting at a dresser, "Denise, be sweet. It's this young man's first time." With that, she left and closed the door.

I was embarrassed; whatever confidence I had drained away. I felt awkward, foolish and unsure. Denise filled two glasses with the wine I brought and handed me one. We sat on a couch sipping our wine and talked. She asked me questions about America, my ship, my family and whether or not I had a girlfriend. Her English was fair, though not as good as Madam Teresa's.

Denise told me about herself. She said that she was 17, grew up on a small farm 20 kilometers to the east and that she was the youngest of six children (three brothers and three sisters). She said that Madam Teresa was her aunt and that as soon as she made enough money, she would marry her boyfriend who was a baker.

We had been talking about twenty minutes. Denise was becoming someone I knew and I had begun to relax. Then without saying a word, she got up and walked behind a screen. Returning, she was naked. She pushed her long black hair on top of her head, held it there and turned around slowly before me. I stood up, all my senses awakened; my judgment struggled against runaway desire.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, smiling and moving closer. She began loosening my tie. I felt drawn by her faint but pleasant and powerful scent. I was spellbound and speechless. My mouth was dry, my face burned, my pulse raced, and my knees trembled. Saturday night kisses and copping an occasional feel at the drive-in hadn’t prepared me for this.

Later, I joined my friends waiting outside the building. “Damn, Cal. We were about to come after you. What took so long?” asked Jimmy.

“I went to sleep.” That was a lie but some things are too personal to share with a friend, even a good one.

Bud stopped pacing and said, “Can we go now? I want to get back to the ship.”

“Where’s Kevin?” I asked.

“He’s gone to find a cab.”

Returning to the ship, our mood had changed; now, we were quiet and withdrawn.

Arriving, we saluted the quarterdeck and requested permission to come aboard. The OD (officer of the deck) said, “You guys are back early. Did you have a problem?”

“No sir. But the pro-kits, where are they?”

“You’ll have to go to sick bay. We don’t put them on the quarterdeck until 2100,” laughed the OD.

On the way to sickbay, Bud asked me if I had ever used a pro-kit. I told him no. In those days, pro-kits were issued to anyone having unprotected sex. They consisted of a syringe used to inject medicine up the urinary tract. We were told that it burned like crazy but wasn’t very effective in preventing disease.

At sickbay, we pressed the plunger on top of a small, silver-colored bell. It dinged.

In a few moments, a corpsman poked his head out. We told him what we wanted. He said to come on back and wait for our turn.

A black sailor in a hospital gown sat on the examining table with his legs spread apart. He was gritting his teeth and groaning in pain. The corpsman began removing the stained bandage wrapped around his tally whacker. The sailor cried and cursed and pleaded with the corpsman to be easy. Bud, Jimmy, Kevin and I huddled together on a long bench against the bulkhead wondering what terrible disease he had. We were filled with remorse, our imaginations worked overtime and we blamed Kevin for getting us into this mess.

“Okay, what do you guys want?” asked Doc when he had finished with the sailor. Jimmy asked, “Doc, what venereal disease does that guy have?”

“Is that what you’re worrying about?” said Doc, grinning, “That S.O.B. kept getting infections so we circumcised him. Told him not to get a hard on but he did and broke his stitches.” Opening a cabinet, Doc took out four bars of strong,Navy soap, handed them to us and continued, “If you’ve been fooling around, use this. Scrub down thoroughly, drink lots of coffee pee and keep on peeing because it flushes you out. Pro-kits don’t work; they just relieve anxiety. Use a rubber or better yet—don’t screw! Now, get out of here.”

Four chastened midshipmen remained on board that night; and when it got dark, we watched a movie on the fantail. Ten days later, we arrived in Göteborg, Sweden, and I spent midsummer’s eve in the forest with blond, blue-eyed Anna and her family. But that’s a story for another time.