AT WAR WITH HATE
Lieut. Florin was a loathsome, egotistical, smirking,
Greek god type. A typical ladies man, bronzed,
tall, flat belly`d and more than adept at hitting a silly punching bag.
On a crowded troop-ship, near the equator and in the
middle of the South Pacific, we sailors stood in each
other`s shade in a futile attempt to stay out of the
scorching, blistering sun --------- and we listened to
the unending rattle of the punching bag.
The boat deck, not sure why it was called that, but it
was, was officer country, all enlisted men were banned from officer country. "They were special".
Day after breathless, stink`n day we would stand in
the sun and hate those bastards.
Unaware that the Marine Corps officers aboard ship
were planning a boxing tournament, the bag bounced
and rattled it`s annoying chatter.
God, I hated that bastard---- then the break came.
Charlie the steward remarked, "Why don`t you go down to the Marine`s newspaper office and challenge
that s.o.b. to fight you in the tournament.
No sooner had the idea germinated than I was in the
Marine`s office volunteering to fight the
officer who kept pounding that idiot bag.
The very next day the paper appeared with the by-line , Lieut. Florin has graciously condescended to
fight a young hospital apprentice (me) in the coming
boxing tournament. "Graciously condescended !"
What a lot of gall.
The officer and I were both over six feet tall, but where
he was lean, muscular and tanned, I was skinny and
pale.
Coming out of the chow line Chief Smith grinned at
me and commented, " You`re going to fight in the
tournament I see". Yeah, guess so, Chief.
"Have you ever fought on a ship before ?" No.
"Well, there are just a couple of things to remember.
Keep your back to the sun and when the ship rolls from side to side, you always stay on the upper side"
that way when he tries to hit you he has to swing up
at you and the sun will always be in his eyes."
Under my breath, I`m thinking , he`s gonna die.
After day after day of insufferable punching bag racket
and seeing this Greek god strutting about the boat deck the day of the big fight arrived.
Before we were called to the ring, Lieut Florin came
down to peasant country and invited me to come up
to the boat deck and have a cold one. I felt it coming.
The old psych game. So I went up and sat in the cool
shade in officer`s country and enjoyed a cold beer
while the officer confessed that he had been Captain
of his boxing team at Yale. After 29 fights he had been cited for superior sportsmanship and excellence
in athletic ability.
I hated him even more. He was obviously trying to
con me into a loser state of mind.
We were called to the center of the ring, given instructions. Retired to neutral corners and at the
bell we came out with blood in our eyes. All the days
of suffering that annoying rattle of the punching bag,
the strutting god-like, superior officer--- it all came
out of my boxing gloves in rattling, hate filled punches.
Just like Chief Smith had said--- I rolled up with the
ship and kept the sun at my back and dared him to
fight . In a short time it was over, The Marine Capt.,referee
raised my arm as the victor and I felt nine feet tall.
THE SPOILS OF VICTORY
The following day I spotted Lieut. Florin at a distance
both eyes were swollen and black, his face was red
with angry red marks . Somehow I did not feel that
victorious.
The next day Lieut . Florin was to be assigned a fighter plane on the main island, then join his unit on
Guadal Canal.
As we stood on deck of the ship in the early morning
a lone plane came in to view. He immediately started
dipping his wings in the traditional salute of "goodbye to my friends" as he passed over our heads.
Just then this plane struck the mast of a tanker anchored just behind us. As the plane struck the mast it burst into fragments---- not a piece of the plane or the pilot were ever seen again.
The voice on the loud speaker announced, "that was
Lieut. Florin who just left this ship."
----- Eagle Cruagh
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