Promotion Party

During long home port periods when I was in the Navy, my Chief usually tried to get rid of me, rather than think of jobs for me to do and supervise me while I did them. I didn't mind, we didn't like each other much. I did a lot of different things. Barracks maintenance and management, shore patrol, harbor tugs, supply department, mess cooking, deck gang, TAD to other boats, were all things I did. Some of them were easy, some hard. Some were interesting, some were not. I didn't really care. I was just putting in my time. The hardest and dirtiest to do, were mess cooking and deck gang. My Chief would have had me do those all the time except they involved still being on the boat, where we still saw each other and I could continue to harass and mind fuck him. Relatively quickly he found ways to remove me from his presence as much as possible, whether it meant easy duty for me or not.

During a period when I was working with the deck gang, one of the 3rd class A gangers got promoted to 2nd and his wife gave him a party. All of the Auxillary men, Torpedo men and unrated deck apes got invited. I was a deck ape du jour at that particular time and got brought along, although that kind of gathering wasn't usually my thing. Mostly I was known to spend my evenings drinking, either at the old shore battery barracks, enlisted club, Marine club or the Horse and Cow, out in town. I was not comfortable at the gathering. Wives were present. The Weaps Chief and his wife were there. The Division officer even showed up, a stuffy recently promoted lieutenant. It was the only time I ever saw an officer at a private, enlisted social event while I was in the Navy. Did I mention before that I was not comfortable there?

Anyway, this party didn't go well. There was no hard liquor, which was a good thing. There were several cases of beer for the men, wine for the ladies and soft drinks that only the lieutenant partook of. There were some nasty little snacks on crackers and a dry cake. We were all expected to drink out of real glasses. There was even cheap stemware for the ladies and their wine. Everybody was trying to be refined and high class. I knew it would end badly. I don't usually drink wine recreationally and the stuff they had there was worse than swill but I sat on the couch in the living room, between two of the ladies with my little stemmed wine glass, politely chatting and sipping daintily. The lieutenant sat off in a corner in a rocking chair, with a Seven Up, quietly. The other men in the room began to work on the beer. It was not a warm evening but everybody started to sweat through their clothes, at the armpits. You could see it. You could smell it.

After a while a glass was broken and the men dispensed with beer glasses and began chugging from the can. The polite conversation of the women was drowned out as the men got up on their feet and began milling around speaking more loudly and boisterously. I stayed on the couch, sipping from my little stemmed glass, only rising to go to the kitchen occasionally for a refill and returning to the couch. The hostess was starting to become visibly agitated by the way things were turning out. What a stupid cow. What the fuck did she expect?

The hostess had a little toddler, less than a year old. She was unable to mind him, with the responsibility of managing the party. The other women were passing the child back and forth between them but he was becoming increasingly restive, being held by strange women. At some point, the woman next to me, while taking her turn with the child, got up to go to the can and passed the child to me. For whatever reason, the child quieted right down, happy to sit on my lap. Everybody thought that was cute. I didn't mind, I was determined to stay out of trouble, that night. Things progressed. The stains under every bodies arms got sodden, the din became louder. The party had only been going on an hour. The men were starting to turn mean. The women, nervous. The poor officer looked very apprehensive but obviously didn't think he could leave yet.

The child in my lap kept reaching at my glass. What the hell, I gave him a little sip every now and then, it kept him happy. The hostess didn't notice right away but some of the other ladies were watching. Eventually the hostesses gaze was drawn to me when the child took a little sip. She really couldn't be blamed, she was already in a pretty anxious and agitated condition. She was up like a shot, standing over me screaming. How dare I feed a little baby alcohol along with a stream of profanity that would make any sailor proud.

I handed her my glass and said, "Here, taste it". It was from a big can of comshaw grape juice I found in the fridge.

All the men started to laugh. They were in on the joke. They had seen me pouring the grape juice into my glass in the kitchen and knew I had chosen not to drink, that night. They said as much. Loudly. Over and over again. Big joke on the stupid women.

I should have just laughed it off, made a little joke and peace with the hostess. Instead, I passed the baby to one of my couch mates, stood up thanked the hostess for the evening and walked out the door. I had never been so grateful to get out of a place in my life.

The episode was frequently talked about on board for weeks afterwards. Since a chief and an officer were there the story quickly spread to the goat locker and wardroom. My shipmates all thought it was hilarious. The wives all hated me with a vengeance, from that day forward.