Well like I said, here's the third installment of the 'An Officer and his Dogs' omake series. This took longer to write out than I thought it would. this also ended uo being quite a bit longer than I originally intented it to be.
Omake: An Officer and his Dogs part 3.
[=]
William awoke gently, the first few things he noticed right away was that there were roughly eight warm things around him. He realized he was on one of the couches that were in the main room of the PT Barracks. He could feel the cold blast of the AC on his face, yet he knew that he was sweating, and had been for some time now. In the Diffuse lighting of the room, he looked around and saw what the cause for the contradiction in temperature was. The eight PT Corgis of the daytime patrol were gathered around him on the couch in a cuddle puddle and he was the center of it.
In the diffuse darkness, a smile cracked across the Lieutenant's face. Though as he also became aware of damp he was from sweating he started to stir. Though he did give the nearest dog some rubs on the side of their face. "Thank you, for watching over me last night; but can Y'all let me up now? I need to shower something fierce." William said with a small chuckle.
A small flurry noises followed as the PT Boats obeyed the Lieutenant's request, from the soft almost unnoticeable jingles of dog tags lightly tapping against the metal loops that helped secure their collars, to the muted click-clack of the Corgis nails tapping against the tile of the Barracks floor as they jumped down from the couch, and much more muted pitta-pat of the dogs' footfalls as they moved across the floor to give the Lieutenant room to stand up and stretch.
When Lieutenant Corgi finished his quick little stretch, he looked at the glow dial of his wristwatch to see what time it currently was; it was 0340, just a little over half an hour before he was supposed to wake up. 'Well, can't complain about waking early this time.' he thought to himself as he looked around the main room with his dark-adjusted eyes.
It took a moment, but he noticed something was off with one of the chairs at the table where the support staff would have meetings, eat breakfast, every now and again play poker at. A sixth sense of sorts went off at the back of William's mind. Never being one to ignore such a feeling, he fished his phone out of his pocket and found the flashlight app.
Though it did ruin his night vision, the bright LED light did confirm his suspicion that one of the chairs was left slightly crooked from what it normally was. A bit of further inspection of the legs showed some light teeth marks that weren't there before. He also noticed a small scuff mark leading to the Barracks door, and curious teeth-mark like dents and scratches on the doorknob.
The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow at this, it wasn't particularly often that the PT Corgis went and sneaked out of the building. He reminded himself to keep a keen eye for any clues as to what one of the dogs sneaked out for, and then determine whether or not if he needed to brace himself towards having an email waiting for him in his inbox sometime later today.
Now though he shuddered as the AC, a frosty 65 degrees for the comfort of the PT boats, was able to direct its chilly hold on his damp uniform and body. "Right, I need a shower," Corgi said to himself as he suppressed another shiver. Seeing that his small suitcase was still off to the side of the door; where he had left it when he had arrived here yesterday. The Lieutenant picked it up and carried it over to one of the spare rooms. He figured it'd be another day or so before LTJG Jackson's personal effects were removed from the CO's quarters and thus freed up the room for whomever it would be that'd come and take his place.
So instead of using the CO's quarters and its standalone bathroom to wash up, William entered the empty XO's quarters, which when he was originally stationed in New Orleans, used to be Clayton's room. The fact that there was a fairly thick layer of dust on the top of the empty dresser meant that no one had gone into the room since Clayton and the rest of William's support staff was transferred over to Port Fourchon some two months ago. For the time being, the Lieutenant would make this room his quarters.
Setting his suitcase on the dresser, William stripped and headed for the quarter's shower. He liked showering with the water just a few degrees below its hottest setting. It helped eased the tension that built up in his muscles from the stress his job had, or after he had spent more than a good part of the day running around with the dogs.
Fresh from his shower William quietly reveled in the softness of the towel he dried off with. Though as he dried off his back his eye twitched just slightly as the sensation of the towel dulled and then abruptly ceased as he reached the very bottom of his back. At least the transition area nowadays when he dried off his was just merely uncomfortable to touch, instead of it being searing painful as it had been when he had been released from the hospital a little over two and half years ago.
Giving a small shake of his head to push aside the memories of the recovery period he went through before he was allowed to be on the front lines again, William wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom of his quarters to get dressed for the day. It didn't take him very long to get most mostly dressed, though before he put his T-shirt on over his head, he looked at his image in the mirror. In particularly at the two marks on his left side, one was roughly the size a silver dollar and stretched across two ribs. The other mark though, it began a few inches above the bottom of his ribs and ended towards the middle of them.
Allowing his shirt to slide down to his wrists, William touched the second, angrier mark on his side with the fingers of his right hand, lightly tracing the slightly curved path the trench of the larger scar with his fingertips. "I still don't know how the hell I lived through that day..." He quietly spoke to no one but himself.
He closed his eyes for just a moment, but at that moment he could still see it. The two twisted pieces of steel sticking out of his side, the flak vest underneath the life jacket he had been wearing being the only thing that stopped those twisted pieces of metal from killing him outright. The sensation of finding it nearly impossible to draw a breath, and nigh blinding pain when he did manage to force in a full breath. This and much more swirled through the forefront of his mind for that brief moment.
Then he opened his eyes again, and the moment passed, the memories that came with that moment were back where they belonged, as far away from the front of his mind as he could push them. Taking a deep breath, and being thankful for being able to do the action without pain, William threw his T-shirt on and then finished getting dressed. His watch showed that it was 0415.
As Lieutenant Corgi opened the door to exit his quarters, he met a rather nervous looking Pfc Sandbar on the other side of the door. "Uh sir, I have some bad news to give." Sandbar said to his superior, bracing for what was to come.
"What is it Sandbar? It better be something important." Corgi asked the marine, he was prepared to go through the routine he went through when Petty Officer Third Class Simon Lake had joined his team.
"The Barracks pantry is all out of Coffee Sir." Sandbar said with a dreadful tone.
Corgi blinked a couple times in confusion. "Are we really out of Coffee Sandbar?" He asked him, in a way that sounded like he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
"I'm afraid so sir. I checked everywhere." The marine answered honestly.
'Oh Hell no.' Was Corgi's only thought at the situation. His surprised expression morphed into a scowl which made Raphael flinch ever so slightly. "Well, guess we'll have to head over to the base mess hall to get coffee and a bite to eat on the go. We've got time, and I sure the dogs will behave themselves until we're back." William said with a hint of resignation.
"Are you certain that's a wise idea, Sir?" Raphael said with a palpable measure of unease. William couldn't blame him for that unease, but he gave the marine a curt nod.
"Yes Sandbar, but that's only because I know the dogs won't do any funny business since I'm the acting CO here, right?" The Lieutenant said to Sandbar, though the last word was accompanied by his gaze shifting down to the PT Corgi that had crept up to the two to listen in.
William was amused when the dog straightened up like a precision milled ramrod. Head up, eyes forward, ears pointed straight ahead and its short tail stood at exactly 55 degrees, the dog raised its front paw as high as it could without disturbing the rest of its stance. It was what the Lieutenant long ago realized was the PT boat version of a salute since the dogs didn't have the anatomy to give a proper Navy Salute.
"See Raphael, they won't misbehave, but we better hurry, because they will try to sortie themselves if we're late. And take it from me, the mess that gets generated from that is a nightmare and a half to clean up." The Lieutenant said with a grave voice as the marine stepped aside to allow him through, before following hot on his heels. There was Coffee to be had, and they didn't have time to take the scenic route, though they didn't have to run yet either.
[=]
Raphael Sandbar was many things, tall however wasn't one of them being all of 5'6" in height. He found himself almost breaking out into a jog to keep up the Lieutenant's brisk walk, then again though, the Lieutenant towered over him at an impressive 6'2". Lieutenant Corgi just simply had a much longer stride than he did. Though Sandbar couldn't help but notice that Corgi seemed to be thinner than he should be given how loose his NWU jacket seemed to hang around his neck. As if though the Lt burned off far more than he took in more often than not.
William for his part, walked across the base with Raphael at a brisk clip in the predawn hours as he mulled over what it could have been that one of PT Corgis sneaked out for last night. His legs moved on autopilot as his mind thought of and almost as quickly discarded different ideas at what it could have been. He needed to figure it out sooner rather than later, just in case if it was something that was going cause him headaches later.
It was when they were passing one of the buildings where the K-blimps liked to laze about that Corgi heard the salty, aggravated gravelly voice of an MCPO, Corgi knew it had to be an MCPO, few people had such equal measures of salt, gravel, and at times barely restrained anger for the crap they're dealing with in their voices as MCPO's did. "For
fucks sake where did this fucking cat get a fish this goddamn big anyways and why do they always leave these fucking things around like their some kind of goddamn present?!" The voice more or less roared out in frustration from the roof of the building.
Hearing the calm peace of the slowly waking naval base be shattered by the old sailor's fury made Lieutenant Corgi raise an eyebrow, he knew K-blimps behavior, if only because they got into enough scuffles with the PT Boats that he
had to spend some of his precious time observing the damn floating cats to figure out when they were likely to start shit with his dogs.
And from those long-ago observations, William knew that the cats were rather lazy creatures, they would hunt, as all cats do. But they usually went for more easy pickings, or just floated down and stole some fisherman's catch from time to time. He and Sandbar had made it a few dozen yards past the building that had a fuming MCPO on its roof when he spotted something, a fish head, a
big fish head that was partially eaten and laying on the pavement.
Despite its state, William could gauge that the fish had to have been 25 pounds at least, something that was a fair bit more troublesome than what a K-blimp would be willing to put up with for a fishy snack. William briefly regarded the fish head and then moved on towards the mess hall, which was now coming into sight. He had a
very good idea now though what happened last night. But the reasons behind it, he couldn't discern the why though. And that worried him more than he was willing to admit.
Regardless though, He was going to have words with the PT Corgis after he gets some coffee and a quick bite to eat on the go.
While there were a few early risers in the mess hall, it was mostly empty. William did spot a pair of ship girls sitting at one table, destroyers from the looks of it, their cruiser minder must've been somewhere in line still. However William didn't dwell on the fact, rather he moved with an appreciable amount grace despite not having a drop of caffeine in his system.
Though because he had no caffeine in him currently and he was in deep, brooding thought about what one of his PT Boats could have been doing with a K-blimp that ended with the PT corgi giving one of the floating cats a fish. Lieutenant William Wallace Corgi had a most terrifying expression on his face, one that brokered no argument and demanded answers to questions even if the Lt didn't ask any.
But William wasn't thinking about any of that, rather he was thinking of gulping down as much of the life-giving black elixir as possible. While he might have been able to worry about what it was that one of his dogs were doing at night without Coffee, he knew he'd barely able to do much of anything else without it. Occasionally he dunked a donut he had grabbed from the line into the coffee before wolfing it down so he'd be able to say he ate something this morning.
He realized that he had utterly drained his coffee mug by the time he got to end of the line. Taking a moment to wolf down some sausage links and finish off the last donut he had picked up before he took care of his tray and doubled back for more coffee.
The fact that Corgi didn't sit down at all for the five and a half minutes he was in the mess hall before he left it with a refiled coffee mug in one hand and a bagel in the other may have been very strange to some people. Others though would have rationalized it as being par the course for someone who had perhaps too much work and not enough help to get it all done. Most however might have been silently thankful that the heavy and perhaps intimidating aura that was hanging around the LT was gone now.
Raphael Sandbar was just plain confused as he got out of the mess line with coffee and a breakfast burrito. He was right behind the Lt and yet the man somehow blurred on ahead and out of mess hall before the marine had finished going through the line. "How the hell does he move that fast without running?" Raphael said quietly to himself before someone spoke up behind him.
"That's because William has spent a
long time with the PT Corgis. Kinda have to be fast to keep up with those dogs.
Especially if you think they're up to mischief of some sort." Spoke the familiar voice of Lieutenant Gallow. Sandbar did not jump forward slightly with a squeak of surprise. He just merely stepped forward involuntarily and turned around on the heel of his combat boots.
"Save the formality marine, you don't need it right this moment," Gallow spoke preemptively to Sandbar as the latter downed a quarter of his coffee in one go to wash down the hearty bite he took out of his burrito.
"Yes, sir." Sandbar said more on reflex than conscious thought after he swallowed the bite. "Is he always like this?" Sandbar asked Gallow as he took another bite.
"Not particularly. Listen, you might wanna hurry along back to him Marine, something tells me he's gonna need your help." Gallow said as he sat down at a table and took a lazy bite out of an egg and bacon sandwich.
Sandbar gave Gallow a nod as he finished off his coffee and burrito before put up the tray and mug and then hurry out the door.
[=]
When Lieutenant Corgi entered the PT Boat Barracks, the dogs quickly gathered round, but the glare on the Lieutenant's face didn't let up. "Alright, which one of you snuck out last night and why?" He asked them in a manner that wasn't too dissimilar to a father asking his kids why they came home late.
Instantly all the Corgis started to look around, occasionally they'd meet William's hard inquisitively stare before looking away, all except one. It didn't take William long to notice that one dog didn't even look him in the eye all at.
'So they're the one' he thought to himself before he picked the PT boat up.
The corgi felt like it was at least ten kilos heavier than its appearance suggested but the Lieutenant barely noticed the weight. "Alright, what did you do?" He asked softly, but with steel hiding behind the soft tone of his words. The dog looked at him for a brief moment, before a fairy crawled out from its collar and told him something with a series of "Heys"
The Lieutenant's face fell a bit and then twisted in confusion and deep concern. "What? Payment for Services rendered? What services? And why did you go to a blimp cat? ... What do you
mean I'm better off not knowing! What did you
do!?" William said the last part in utter exasperation before he brought the dog a bit closer to his face after the Fairy didn't elaborate further.
"Whatever you did, it better not come back to blow up in my face later, got it? Because if I get in trouble for it, yer fluffy butt will belong to DesDiv17, and word from the scuttlebutt is that they've found some
'amazingly kawaii' costumes sold off base that they wanna put some of y'all in. Maybe I should see if that rumor is true or not." Lieutenant Corgi spoke in a level, matter of fact manner. It wasn't often that he had to talk to the dogs like this, but with everything he had observed since waking up and what the PT boat he was currently holding
did say to him. The few ideas of what it could have been that saw this Corgi sneaking out, catching and then
giving one of the K-blimps a big fish from the lake last night didn't bode well.
From the frantic
"Heys" coming from the fairy balanced on top of the Corgi's head and the small up and down shakes of the head, the Corgi itself gave him. William knew the dog understood him clearly. With that matter settled, he placed the corgi back down and gave it a quick head pat before he started moving to get the Dogs ready for the day.
Pfc Sandbar got walked in through the door just as William started taking out the bags of Dog food.
The rest of their morning would go rather smoothly. Where's elsewhere, a certain Gunnery Sergeant was finding himself in a rather unenviable position.
[=]
Gunnery Sergeant Jim Clayton was not having the best of mornings. Not that the dogs were giving him and the PT Corgi support staff of Port Fourchon more of a hassle than normal with getting ready for sortie and the changing of the patrol rotations. That went smoothly. No, it was something infinitely more annoying.
The Fairies of Port Fourchon's PT Corgi night patrol rotation was trolling him,
again.
Jim knew they existed, he knew they were around, but for the life of him despite his best attempts, he could never see the little fuckers. Not directly anyway.
Jim also knew that they knew he couldn't see them, or perhaps they simply didn't choose to reveal themselves to him. He honestly didn't know or frankly care about that.
Rather what he did care about was the fact that his Coffee Mug twice now had been moved to a slightly different part of the desk he was sitting at currently. Usually when he briefly looked away to reread part of the post-patrol reports that would be aggregated into an overall report of the night's patrol findings.
Jim didn't have the kind of ability William had to look at a post-patrol report once and be able to transcribe its contents into the overall report. He had to look back at the large postage stamp piece of paper a couple of times to make sure he didn't screw anything up.
Of course, the Fairies would take that moment to move something around on the desk. Whether it was his Coffee mug, a pen, a paperweight or some other small item; not that it was delaying his work, well except for the Coffee. But it only delayed things for as long as it took for him to grab the handle and take another generous sip of the life-giving liquid.
Clayton set the mug down and went to read the next report. Except he noticed that the paper clip holder had been moved closer than it had been before. Clayton sighed and moved it back to where it belonged before he picked up the little report and began transcribing its contents.
For being unable to see the little gremlins, Clayton was glad that he could read and understand the little reports they wrote and left on the desk. Even if it threatened to give him a migraine whenever he tried to figure out how that was possible.
He reached over for the Coffee mug and his hand closed around empty air instead of the mug's handle. He finished transcribing the sentence he was working up before his eyes shot up to where his hand was, and he noticed that the Coffee mug was a few centimeters to the right of it.
"All right ya little shits, I know ya still in here. If Today's the day I finally see one of ya, I'm gonna grab and shake ya like the Corgis do with a new squeaky toy!" Clayton spoke in what amounted to a low bark. He eyed the desk's contents suspiciously,
daring for any of the objects on it to move in front of his steely gaze.
When nothing did, he huffed once and got back to work. He went a solid five minutes before a commotion outside tore him away from his task with just one report left to transcribe. "Oh now, what's going on?" Clayton groaned.
"MOTHER FUCKER THEY GOT INTO MY PEANUT BUTTER STASH!" Roared Pfc Ellen before Jim heard a series of swears doppler past the door to the office. Clayton didn't know why, nor did he want to know why, but the woman loved her peanut butter sandwiches and she got rather peeved when there wasn't any Peanut Butter in the Barracks.
Though this was his first time learning that she kept a stash of the stuff somewhere in the Barracks building, from the way the sound of her swears changed pitch as she had passed the door, he guessed Lisa must've kept the stash in her room. Jim sighed and went on to finish transcribing the last patrol report before checking the compiled report one last time. When he saw that nothing was amiss, he sent it up the chain of command.
"William, please get back to us soon. The dogs just have way too much energy lately." Jim said with a sigh as he got up from the desk, the desk normally occupied by the Lt and walked out into the rest of the barracks. Jim would swear that the dogs seemed to be celebratory about something he couldn't even begin to guess at, given the energy which they ran around the main room.
Jim felt in his bones that today was gonna be a
long day.
[=]
Lieutenant William Corgi had finished compiling the night patrol's post-patrol report early and was now helping Private First Class Sandbar wash the PT Corgis just outside of the Barracks building. He had his NWU sleeves rolled so they wouldn't get soaked. Though this did end up showing a handful of small scars that dotted his arms, scars from his days before the Navy when he raised and trained hunting dogs.
William was very glad that the dogs weren't giving him any trouble with their washes, at least going as far as to not shake off before they got out of the tin tub. Thus he was at best; slightly damp from when the Corgis did shake off before Sandbar had the chance to close the towel around them completely.
William took comfort in the fact that the Corgi he was rinsing off now was the last one. Poor Sandbar had to have been soaked to his boots by now.
Though William didn't notice that a marine was coming closer to his location until they were about 25 yards away, it was only then that William noticed the marine, he rolled down the Sleeves of his NWU's, got up and approached the man. "Can I help you, Marine?"
"This is for you, sir." The marine responded before handing him an envelope. William blinked as he took it and opened it up as the other marine left. As he read what was written a small smile crossed his face just as Raphael came up behind him.
"What is that Sir?" Sandbar asked Corgi rather inquisitively.
"Just something from Admiral Raleigh, He wants to discuss with me about who's gonna replace LTJG Jackson at this posting. Don't worry Raphael; I'll make damn sure that whoever takes over here takes good care of you and the dogs. I'll
personally vet Jackson's replacement before I head back to Port Fourchon." William said to the other with a reassuring smile. He noticed that the dogs were acting in a manner that was usually reserved for when they were getting two thick strips of fresh cooked Bacon as a reward for a particularly well-done job.
He didn't think much of it as he went off towards the administration building; the Lieutenant was glad that the Admiral found someone to take over management of the PT Corgis in New Orleans. Though he would ask his superior if he could speak with whoever was going to replace LTJG Jackson before they officially took over the posting and he returned to his posting in Port Fourchon. He wanted to make certain that the mess with Jackson wasn't repeated again.
[=]
Gunnery Sergeant Clayton had
just finished three and a half hours of washing the PT Corgis of the night patrol rotation with the help of his Marines and Petty Officer Third Class Lake; Sanderson was busy doing maintenance on the PT Boat's Rigging. Washing the PT Corgis was a task and a half itself, given the amount of built-up salt from sea spray that had to be washed from their double coat of fur alone.
When they got covered in mud or something sticky it was even more of a process to get them cleaned up again. Though how exactly did a full half of the dogs of the night patrol rotation end up with blotches of Peanut butter stuck to their fur baffled Clayton to no end.
He tried asking Ellen about what happened but her responses only baffled him further. Well, he couldn't complain too much, the dogs were due for their weekly wash in two days anyway, and the peanut butter debacle helped him get out of washing all the dogs on his own as the price for losing the keep away game two days ago at least.
Though he and everyone else helping him save for Lance Corporal Desmond were
drenched with the water the dogs shook off of themselves before they happily leaped into the awaiting dry towels Desmond held out.
Jim would readily admit watching the dogs get dried off was kind of adorable. They looked so happy to be clean and dry, even though he knew that chances are that they'll end up muddy or otherwise messy again sometime soon. Especially if they were going in for scheduled baths soon, much to his dismay.
"Hey Gunny, what with the transport trucks pulling up to the barracks, I don't remember seeing anything about us getting something like that." Sergeant Banks spoke with a confused tone, causing Jim to turn and see that a pair of heavy duty transports was coming their way. Clayton was confused, very confused at the sight because those trucks were normally the kind used to transport ship girls.
The Last time Gunnery Sergeant Clayton had checked, there wasn't any Ship Girls currently assigned to Port Fourchon, nor were any being assigned to it in the immediate future to best of his knowledge. So the Heavy Duty transports pulling up to the PT Boat Barracks confused the hell out of him.
That confusion grew, even more, when he saw people get out of the backs of the trucks, from the looks of their uniforms Clayton could see that these were
Army personnel. Eight of them total disembarked from the two trucks carrying with them a sizable suitcase and a large duffel bag each.
Clayton stood up as one of the Army personnel walked up to him. "Are you Gunnery Sergeant Jim Clayton?" The Army trooper asked him with strict professionalism.
"Yes I am, who are you and what's going on here soldier?" Clayton said in response to the man's question. He wanted answers and he wanted them yesterday.
"Sergeant First Class Stacker, we're here to manage the PT Boats stationed here." Stacker said to Clayton, and Clayton couldn't help but smile at hearing the news.
"Thank God, I never thought Lieutenant Corgi would able to get some of the Army's Dog handlers to help us out here." Clayton said with relief on his face. Those this relief was short lived as Jim saw Stacker's expression change.
"Gunny, that's not it, we're taking over operations here while you, the rest of Lieutenant Corgi's staff and six of the PT boat squadrons stationed here are transferred over to New Orleans effective immediately." Sergeant First Class Stacker said to Clayton in an almost apologetic manner.
"What?" The sheer flatness that Clayton said the word within his response to Stacker's statement was flatter than the flattest flattop. Jim honestly thought he misheard the other, he just couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Say that again SFC. Stacker, I think I didn't hear that clearly." Clayton spoke with complete disbelief.
Stacker for his part placed his duffel bag down and pulled a pair of envelopes out of his breast pocket before handing them over to Clayton to read. Clayton took the envelopes and noticed that one was unopened and was from the Navy; the other envelope was from the Army and was already opened.
Clayton opened the Navy Envelope and read the letter that was inside. His mouth hung open as the letter confirmed what the Army Sergeant had told him.
"Stacker, how long does my team have before we depart for New Orleans?" Clayton asked with a stony expression on his face.
"About an hour, hour and a half top Gunny." Was Stacker's swift response to Clayton's question, Jim couldn't help but bit his lip a bit as he mulled things over.
"None of this makes sense,
Army in charge of handling Navy Dogs on a Navy facility?" Clayton said with palpable exasperation at the absurdity of the situation he was now being confronted with.
"I know Gunny, Hell everything stopped making sense when those demons from the depths appeared, and any chance of normalcy coming back went right out the window when the world heard the first Dess," Stacker said with a completely straight face.
Clayton looked at Stacker for a moment, before he started laughing. Jim would give credit to the Army man for making him chuckle, even if the army Sergeant was completely correct about the statement. Jim still had to laugh a bit, it was the only way to keep sane in the madhouse that the world had become.
"Alright Stacker, I'll tell the others to pack their things and get ready to depart within the hour. However, before my team leaves, I need to know which PT Boat Squadrons are staying behind." Clayton said to the other as he led the Army personnel to the PT Boat Barracks.
"Just one squadron from the day rotation and one from the night rotation Gunnery Sergeant, that's all." Stacker replied crisply.
"Okay, Oh and before I forget, there is a 38-page booklet that Lieutenant Corgi wrote up detailing how to manage the PT Corgis. I
highly suggest you read it if you wanna avoid learning a lot of things about the PT boats the hard way, among other things." Jim said to the other as he opened the door to the Barracks. The nod the other gave him at least took off some of the tension Jim felt building up in his shoulders. Oh, he knew his outfit was in for interesting times ahead.
Though as he told everyone else of his unit what was going on, and then made the radio call to the deployed day patrol rotation about which ones would be returning to New Orleans and which ones would be returning to Port Fourchon, one thought remained at that back of his mind.
When is William going to be informed of this development?
[=]
Lieutenant William Corgi walked out of the Admiral's office with a fairly neutral expression on his face after his meeting with his overall superior was done. He kept up the professional appearance he had maintained all throughout the half-hour meeting until he was about two dozen paces away from the door to the Admiral's office and around the corner of the hallway.
It was only then that William allowed himself to falter, with an almost explosive sigh. The Lieutenant placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. His left eye twitched a fair bit and his hands were shaking to a degree.
"This
has to be some kind of punishment for all the personnel requests I sent in last eight months. It just has to be. It's either that or maybe this is some kind of test he's putting me through. There's just no way can I fully believe that I'm the best at my job that he knows, just no damn way, he's a flag officer. There's gotta be at least six other people that are as good as or better than me at managing PT boats." Corgi mumbled to himself as he mostly pulled himself together and continued on out of the administration building.
When William entered the PT Boat Barracks, the PT Corgis sensed something wasn't right with him and gathered around his legs like a small fluffy fleet of escorts. Moving in sync with his footsteps and only partially dispersing to allow him to collapse onto one of the couches face-first with a miserable groan.
"I'm doomed." Lieutenant Corgi groaned out with his face between the couch cushions, he was suddenly feeling far older than he actually was. Sandbar took a seat on the neighboring couch.
"Lieutenant is something wrong sir?" Sandbar asked Corgi, from the short time he had come to know the man; Raphael figured that him acting like this wasn't something that happened often, if ever, without good reason. The Lieutenant for his part lifted his face out of the cushions of the couch with a look in his eyes that could be likened to that of a dead fish.
"Yes, Raphael. Something's very wrong and it's about who's taking over LTJG Jackson's posting here." William spoke with an almost monotone voice that was tinted with faint despair.
"Who's taking over the LTJG's post sir?" Sandbar spoke quietly, nervousness now creeping into the Marine's voice.
"Me." Corgi said with a slight groan. This made Sandbar very
very confused. The PT Corgis, on the other hand, got very excited and started to run around the main room in what appeared to have been victory laps as fast as their stubby little legs could take them.
"Sir, I don't follow why that's a bad thing." Sandbar said, not sure how exactly the Lt. would take his statement. He watched Corgi sit up on the couch and face him. A look of dread and exasperation creased his face.
"Because that means my Staff is getting transferred here along with most of the PT Boats we were handling out in Port Fourchon. This after I finally got the Corgis we were managing in Port Fourchon to lose the last of the bad habits they had picked up here in New Orleans and now there's a fair chance they'll relearn those bad habits."
"Sir, I'm certain tha-" Sandbar started to say but stopped when the Lt. raised his index finger to stop him from finishing that statement.
"It's not just that Sandbar. There are far more K-type blimps here than there was at Port Fourchon. Far, far more, and now there's going to be far more PT Corgis here than there was for the last two months. Those blimpcats aren't gonna take too kindly to seeing so many dogs flood the base again after spending two months with at most 8 of them being present at any given time. How many more scuffles do you think are gonna happen between the two groups Marine?" William said with a large hint of resignation in his voice.
Sandbar thought of it for a moment and then his eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a train. The Lt saw this and nodded at the marine.
"Seems like ya realized it, a bunch of people is gonna end up being kept up by the racket they'll make if and
when they get into a scuffle. This means sooner or later, I'll have to answer a rather annoyed ship girl whose beauty rest has been interrupted by the Cats and dogs fighting, in addition to dealing with the paperwork that'll come from the inevitable noise complaints. More paperwork from reorganizing the PT Squadrons, getting the needed supply forms filled out and sent, redrawing the patrol routes for the PT boats to accommodate the changes being stationed in New Orleans brings to how far out they can go. And SECNAV knows what else may come! New Orleans might be tamer than other Ship girl bases in most respects. But that's just for everyone else!" The Lieutenant said with exasperation as he threw his hands up into the air.
"But for us PT Boat Handlers. It's the third most chaotic place to be stationed at! Only Everett and
anywhere in Florida are worse, with the Florida Key West station being the worst of them all! You wouldn't think that four PT Corgis could cause so much trouble, but I know a colleague who's manning the Key West station who has to deal with PT Boats who have a very hard time not herding all those protected chickens every day." He said before letting his arms fall to his sides and sitting back on the couch. The Lt. exhaled and seemed to sink into the couch a bit as the steam left him.
"And what makes Naval Station Everett so chaotic for the likes of us sir?" Sandbar asked, wonder what was so bad about that place for PT Boat Handlers like him and the Lt.
"All of those Destroyers stationed there Raphael. They spoil the small handful of PT boats stationed there completely rotten." Corgi said in a flat monotone before wiping his brow. He glanced at Sandbar and realized there was a question the marine wanted to ask but was hesitant to do. William figured what the young marine wanted to ask him and so he beat him to the question.
"To answer the question you probably have, you're being reassigned to my unit Sandbar." William said to the Pfc to assure his unspoken concerns. The Lieutenant gave a ghost of a smile when he saw the marine relax completely at the statement. Though William checked his watch and noticed the time. He remembered that the admiral had informed him that his team and the day patrol would arrive in trucks within the next few hours. The Lieutenant sighed and then stood up from the couch.
"Okay, enough mopping about, we need to prepare for what's coming Sandbar." William spoke with a sense of renewed vigor, even if his voice held a measure of resignation in it. "Ah, this may be kinda dumb to ask but, did anything happen while I was over at Administration?" He asked the marine.
"Not much sir, just a pair of enlisted coming in to remove LTJG Jackson's personal effects from his quarters." Was the swift response from Sandbar, William gave a nod at the other's response before he motioned for the young marine to come with him.
There was much to do before everyone else showed up and William didn't want to hear Clayton complain about him commandeering his room. Or worse, have Clayton take
his quarters instead. William knew his friend well enough to know that it was a thing Jim would totally do.
[=]
Gunnery Sergeant Jim Clayton was in Hell. The kind of hot and humid Hell that only could be produced by 18 excited PT Corgis in the back of a transport port truck with him, two other people and the bags and boxes of their personal effects that couldn't fit up front in the cab. He sincerely hoped that they were about to pull into New Orleans soon.
He wasn't sure how much longer he could take the rocking motion the truck had as the dogs moved from one side of the back to the other seemingly every other second to look out a window. Let alone the heat in the back. The AC, despite being on full blast, just simply couldn't handle all the heat generated from the energetic PT Corgis moving about inside.
Clayton was thankful that the AC was at least keeping the temperature in the back survivable, even it wasn't comfortable. He glanced at the other two people who were back here with him, Banks and Sanderson, to see how they were holding up to the car ride. Sgt. Banks looked like he was green around the gills but the plucky Sergeant gave him a thumbs up.
"Don't worry Gunny, I'm not gonna lose my lunch in here." Banks said to Clayton with all the bravado he could muster.
CW5 Sanderson, in contrast, looked far better than Banks did or how Clayton felt beyond being very sweaty. "How can you remain so unaffected by all this Sanderson?" Clayton asked the Navy Warrant Officer with a curious tone.
"Simple Gunny, I grew up in South Florida and rode airboats in the swamps all the time as a kid and teenager. This isn't anything compared to the jostling those things could give. Heat and Humidity is bout the same as summertime thou." Sanderson said, letting his accent slip a through.
"I wonder how Lisa, Simon, and Stanley are holding up in the other truck." Banks said as he glanced to doors that of the back of the truck, some distance beyond which was the second transport truck.
"If we're lucky, Lisa is just feeling dizzy and overheated." Clayton started before Sanderson spoke the other half of the statement he himself refused to say.
"If we're not, then Ellen's thrown up twice in there already." Sanderson said in a resigned tone like he was expecting that to be the case. Clayton shot Sanderson a rather harsh glare.
"Don't fuckin Jinx it Sanderson, we can
try to be hopeful for once you know!" Clayton all but hissed out between his teeth.
Whatever it was that Sanderson was about to say next was lost to history because one of the Corgis spotted something familiar out of one of the windows and started to bark happily. And then they all started happily barking inside the truck with great enthusiasm, much to the misery of their human handlers riding in the back with them.
Even though he and the other two with him covered their ears with their hands; the sound inside the back of the enclosed transport was just a couple yards short of deafening. But it did tell them one thing. They just pulled into New Orleans, which meant they had 15 minutes at most before they'd be out of the trucks.
Lieutenant Corgi had just finished with the last of the cleaning and other preparations when they heard the sound of the transport trucks pulling up to the Barracks. William knew it couldn't be anything else other than the transports, because he could faintly hear the barking from inside the Barracks building. He nodded to Sandbar and the two hurried out the door.
If William was asked, he'd say it was almost ominous how the sound from the transports came to a sudden stop as he and Raphael approached them. William motioned the marine to go open the back doors of one truck while he did the other. They both stood off to the side of a door on their respective trucks before they opened them.
It never ceased to amuse, amaze and utterly
baffle the Lieutenant, in that order, to watch the suspension of a Transport truck bonce up and down slightly every time one of the PT Corgis jumped out of the back and landed on the ground with a rather heavy thud.
Following the dogs out just a minute later was Clayton, Banks and Sanderson, each of them carrying a couple boxes, a duffel bag or both. William helped them down and noticed that they were drenched in sweat. "Rough ride Gunny?" He asked his friend Clayton knowing full well what the answer was.
"Yeah William, It was a rough ride. Almost fifteen minutes of non-stop barking as we pulled into the city made it all the worse." Jim groaned out as he stepped off the truck. William gave his friend a sympathetic pat on the back. He glanced over to the second truck and saw Pfc Sandbar helping Simon, Lisa, and Stanley out of the second truck.
William winced when he saw Pfc Ellen; poor girl looked like she was a quarter second from hurling. He was honestly surprised that she hadn't hurled during the trip.
"All right Gunny, What is there to unload from here and where's my personal effects?" The Lieutenant asked the Gunnery Sergeant.
"Everything else that wasn't in the back with us is up front in the Cab Lieutenant. I'll give ya a hand with it after I set this stuff inside." Clayton said as he, Banks and Sanderson hurried off. William turned back to see if Pfc Ellen had improved any bit, he was relieved to see that she looked less sick than before given that she was carrying her stuff to the PT Barracks building now.
The Lieutenant also noticed that Pfc Sandbar was heading up to the front of the truck to start unloading what was packed there. That was his cue to unload his personal effects from the front of his transport truck. Moving up to the front and opening the door, Corgi carefully removed a stack of two small boxes that were labeled 'Memories of friends departed' and 'for if the worse was to come' respectively.
"Do you want me to help you with that Sir?" The marine driver of the truck asked William.
"No Marine, You've probably had enough with moving the PT Boats; I ain't gonna trouble ya any further with my units' things." He said in a frank manner to the marine, who simply nodded once before he relaxed in his seat.
These two boxes were not the only personal effects William had, he had a large box that had everything else in his quarters and a medium box that had every personal item in his office to get as well, but these two small boxes were the items he had the highest priority to get inside and in his quarters. As he was coming in with those boxes he saw Clayton jog by, giving him a small nod as he passed.
This Signaled to Corgi that Clayton himself had packed up the items in these two boxes, thus keeping their contents unknown to others. Which made him breathe a sigh of relief, he didn't want anyone other than Clayton to know what laid within the latter, and he didn't like talking about what was in the former all too much because of what it reminded him of what he had lost, what he had gone through on that fourth day of that horrible week.
[=]
It didn't take long for the members of the U.S. Navy's 5th Patrol Torpedo Boat Support Unit, or more colloquially named 'Dog Squad' to finish unloading the trucks and settle back into their old base of operations, New Orleans.
The rest of the Afternoon and Evening went without much of a fuss beyond some initial confusion of which PT boats for the Night Patrol Rotation would sortie and the expected madness that'd come from feeding forty-four PT Corgis of the returning day rotation.
Though now with the sun having already set, Lieutenant William Wallace Corgi sat in his office and concluded transcribing the last of the patrol reports from the day patrol rotation before sending them up the chain of command.
The only real thing of note in today's patrol reports was that a dozen floating mines had been discovered and destroyed about 50 miles from the coastline of Pensacola, Florida.
But the fact that such things had been found at all troubled the Lieutenant greatly. While he wasn't Admiral Raleigh and thus he didn't possess the power of divination that Flag Officers all seemingly had. He knew that only two things could possibly deploy sea mines without being readily spotted were submarines or some kind of long-range PT boat.
While both possibilities disturbed the Lieutenant, a third perhaps equally disturbing thought came to him a minute after he sent the report to his superior. "It could be that these were deployed a while ago and they've just now drifted that close because of the currents." William said quietly to himself as he pulled up an image the Ocean Currents within the Gulf.
While the image of the Gulf Stream currents made the idea of the ocean currents having pushed the mines to the location there found in, it didn't ease any of the tension William felt. In fact, it only ratcheted it up slightly as he tried to think of where those mines could have been deployed originally to have ended up being carried by the currents to where they had been found off the coast of Pensacola.
However before he could think any further on it, he heard a knock on his door. "Enter." William said with a strong hint of tiredness in his voice. He saw his friend Jim enter the room. Holding a large and familiar kind of can in his hands, a coffee can. And there was a note on top of the can as well.
"I was about to head out with everyone else to get something from the mess hall when I saw this at the front of the door, damn near kicked the thing when I stepped out. I sent everyone else ahead to get chow, but I figured you needed to see this William. Because I have no goddamn idea what this is all about or what it means." The Gunnery Sergeant said before leaving the coffee can and note on the Lieutenant's desk and departing for the mess hall.
Lieutenant Corgi picked up the note and read it, whoever wrote it she, and he was certain it was a she, was apologizing for taking the Coffee that was for the PT Boat Barracks from supply. Raising an eyebrow from the way the note was written, William picked up the can and noticed it was lighter than it should have been.
Popping the can open, he saw the stay fresh seal had been removed and so had been a quarter of the Coffee inside. William looked at the note again with a strong suspicion of the kind of person who wrote it and this time he gave it a sniff, just to confirm something he had suspected. On the note, he smelled the sea... and a small hint of Diesel fumes on the paper among a few other things, which told him one thing, a submarine wrote this note, which meant now he knew why the requisitioned coffee had failed to show up on time. Thus leaving the PT boat barracks without coffee.
William found himself grinding his teeth in frustration as he closed and took the can back to the pantry cabinet that was next to the Barracks Coffee machine. "Damn Subthieves," William grumbled to himself as he went about the rest of his night.
[=]
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