Brinkley Bass (DD 887) - Naval Cruise Book

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3. I

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LIBERTY CALL An orange sun nestles behind a row of deserted fac- tories across the river in the blue-grey haze Of 21 late autumn evening. The traffic inches forward, traveling ten or fifteen feet, then halting, giving the aerial ap- pearance of a lethargic serpent. Your mind Wafldefs to an evening long ago when the lights grew brighter in the gathering dusk . I wonder what Grace is doing now ? You can almost hear the driving, blaring music which filled the Club Oceans- ll. The car radio seems so quiet by comparison. Good times! , you reflect, and a smile comes to your lips .... Good times! What was the name of the other place ? The China Fleet Club? No, that doesn't sound right .... that was in Hong Kong. The Seventh Fleet Club, that's it. What a show! Suddenly names and places flood back in a jumble of con- fused memoriesg Fiddler's Green, a mental picture of LYSTER with his arms driving back and forth in imita- tion of a dance, a bedspread made of rabbit fur, monkey meat on a stick, the smell of Olongapo City, the graceful trees on the slopes of Victoria Peak, the cold wind which blew across Sasebo, an orange crushed underfoot in the market district, flies, the countless belt buckles, patches, caps, cameras, paintings, tape recorders, books, records and suits that came across the brow on the aching shoul- ders of their proud owners. How many sets of china had been delivered? How many hunting rifles? The traffic moves ahead. Only a few more miles and you can cut across the Grant Street Interchange. Snow flur- ries are predicted later in the evening. You turn off the radio and listen tfo the engine idle. The wind is rising. In the back of your mind a vague picture of a windy night in Subic Bay takes form. You remember steaming in very late in the day. There was some question whether liberty would go at all. When it was finally called away a Mike Boat full of laughing, shouting officers and men headed across the dark green swells, and by the early hours of the morning it was on its way back in a driving rain. Yet, no one noticed the weather much. The boat heaved and pitched, men shoved one another, sang, laughed, and passed the hats of those unwary enough to keep theirs on their heads down the length of the well deck. Yours went over the side. Good times! A truck creeps forward to nudge your bumper. Traffic is beginning to move again. The radio comes to life with a flick of the wrist. The songs are different than they were then ..... but then, many things have changed. The Grant Street Overpass come into view. Soon you will be free again. Keelung, Sasebo, Taipei, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Yoko, and Olongapo City seem far away and long ago. The sun dis- appears in the west.

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