This story has been burning in me for some time. i finally took the time to write it and bring it out on paper. i find that if i sit to write for the sake of writing i end up blocked. i await a drive or desire to convey something and then find the means of expressing it. Each dispensation of God reveals new words and new meanings. i do not believe that we create as much as capture what is already around us and put it down in our own way. This is one of those occasions.
Command DecisionThe sun rose above the lake slowly revealing the shore and the dozens of sailboats idly waiting for the day’s activities. The birds sung their praise of the morning and the land began to wake up to the new day.
Reveille sounded and like a disturbed hornets’ nest, the midshipmen scrambled. Before long they were all in formation on the already warming summer day. Rows of black trimmed white uniformed naval midshipmen grouped company by company saluted as the flag was raised. This day was to prove to be a memorable day for one particular midshipman. Just shy of his fifteenth birthday he was well into the summer session, the third generation to attend that military academy. Row after row of well ordered midshipmen marched like waves up the steps and into the mess hall. They broke step as they entered and headed towards the hot breakfast awaiting. As they ate in silence, straight backed and not touching the back of the chairs, one particular midshipman was reflecting on the day to come. He was the third generation to attend the military academy and reflected on the years gone by and his father and grandfathers experiences there. His grandfather had had his name removed from the rolls later in life due to the fact that African American’s were not allowed to attend. It was a long time since then and in this bicentennial year there were at least two African Americans in attendance, one of which was the midshipman’s roommate. He remembered going to the officer in charge when first arriving with his brother. They had both requested different roommates from each other as they were roommates at home. With some reluctance the officer showed them the photos of the two African American students and stated that they were the only two that they could split rooms with. The brothers eagerly agreed and it led to a good and strong friendship that summer. Having finished breakfast the midshipman raised his arms, elbows out and crossed them at right angles, a salute while seated.
“Sir, Midshipman _______ requests permission to leave the table, please sir!” shouted the midshipman.
“Dismissed” was the response.
The midshipman quickly disposed of his tray and proceeded to head to class. He walked through the Indiana summer morning towards his first class of the day. The walk took him by the docks where he could see the scaled down three masted schooner, the Fowler. The ship was beautiful in the morning light with white sails furled on black masts, the ratlines running down to the deck and the black and white trimmed hull in some way mirroring the uniform donned by the midshipman. Surrounding the ship, like children clutching to their mother, were dozens of one and two-man sailboats. Looking at the ship elicited several feelings to the midshipman. Not quite fifteen as of yet he was still used to not having privileges that older boys had. The schooner was the domain of the upper classman relegating the smaller crafts to the first and second year students. While this feeling of being low man on the ladder was ever present, there were some accomplishments that could not be taken away. As he thought of this he was fingering the marksman medal he had earned while firing the M-1 rifle, a world war two era weapon. This showed that some skills could not be taken away. Just the week before he had succumbed to the threats of an upper classman: who insisted that he “throw” his recital and allow the upper classman to sit ahead of him in the trumpet section. At first he did not do so and had demerit after demerit thrown at him until he had no choice but to relent to the pressure and give in. This medal was his and was the result of his skill and could not be taken away.
The classes went as usual; he practiced his semaphore with flags and cards and was preparing for the interschool competition that would be coming up.
Lunch went on, a reflection of breakfast and the afternoon had arrived. This was an afternoon of sailing, putting into practice the learning from the classroom. While they had all had practice on the small one man sail boats, it was time now to take out the Vikings, the two to three-man sail boats. Two midshipmen were assigned to an upper classman who would captain the boat. The midshipman waited by the flags for the other midshipman and the upper classman that were assigned to sail together. The breeze had increased, causing the flags to flutter and the lines to snap in the breeze. The lines on the boats fluttered as well creating a wind chime of enormous proportions.
The others soon arrived and they proceeded to their assigned vessel. They each entered the boat with a skill that comes with practice so as not to tip each other into the water. With practice the upper classman gave orders, the sail was unfurled and the boat was soon underway.
There is a silence in sailing that is peaceful. The boat moves silently in the water, cutting it like a well practiced knife. The sail occasionally flutters as the breeze comes and goes and overall there is tranquility and timelessness to the experience. On this occasion the midshipman had enjoyed the experience in spite of the fact that it was another person that was ordering the two midshipmen and going wherever he pleased. It was tempting to put ones hand in the water as it raced by but this was not permitted. They were heading further and further away from the docks and were quite a distance away when the wind picked up and the clouds began to thicken. This increased as the vessel headed further and further away from the school. The boat had increased speed tremendously and the wind did not promise to let up. It was at this point that the horn went off and looking back towards the far away docks they spied the double “Bravo” flags fluttering in the wind. This was a storm warning and a call to return immediately to the safety of the docks. At this point tension had been building and the midshipman saw that they were getting closer and closer to some cliffs that were supposed to be off limits. For some inexplicable reason the upper classman wanted to venture off into forbidden waters.
The fear was now palatable in the upper classman. He seemed frozen and unable to take action. The cliffs were drawing dangerously near and their speed had increased. The upper classman looked at the midshipman and yelled “the boat is yours!” Whether he acted out of panic or an innate understanding, he turned the command of the vessel to the younger midshipman. The midshipman thought about what to do, what he was supposed to do in this situation, the earlier thoughts of being low man on the ladder among other things. This transpired in the short time it took to grab the rudder away from the upper classman. Things came into play and the midshipman yelled “Prepare to come about!” , and the other two scrambled as they had been trained to. “Come about!” yelled the midshipman as he forced the rudder sharply. The boom swung from the port side to the starboard side with ferocity. The other two, prepared for this change, had gripped the lines tightly and held the sail in place. The boat leaned over at a sharp angle. The instructors had stated that the keel on the Vikings were such that they could not keel over and capsize. This was not much relief to the young sailors’ as they were tilting in the wind. In what seemed an eternity they eventually righted themselves and were heading fast and furiously towards the dock.
They were clearly the last to arrive as they had ventured further away than they were supposed to. The midshipman was able to dock the boat without incident and the three stepped foot on land and were able to relax. There was little in terms of chastisement due to the safe return of the boat.
As the midshipman left the dock and on to some well deserved rest he reflected on the events that had just transpired. He had a feeling of balance. It was not with a feeling of accomplishment that he left the docks. It seemed right. It was like a jigsaw puzzle. The last piece was put into place when he was given command of the boat and it fit. He knew what to do and how to do it. It was as if it was meant for him to take command and bring the boat back to shore and once the task was complete all went back to normal.
A few weeks later he found himself at the top of the foremast of the Fowler with sails unfurled. The wind was strong up high and the feeling was exhilarating. The crew scrambled bellow as he watched from up high. It was a rewarding experience to be one of the only lower classman allowed to crew vessel that one day. While most of the sailing movies place the action on deck or at the helm of the ship, the satisfaction of being in the foremost position and high up was spectacular. Instinctively he knew that this was most likely to be his one and only summer at the academy, but he was content with the experience as the wind blew around him. The events earlier, combined with his current position brought a smile on his young face. He closed his eyes for a moment and, as the wind caressed his cheeks, he savored the moment in such a way that it could be recalled later.
shiidon, November 2007
