when we finally get underway. So we are now going to a three-section duty rotation.”
Foster let out a short whistle and said, “Leave it to Mr. B and Master Chief Reynolds to tag-team the Captain, again!”
“Regardless of how it happened, Senior Chief, I still need a new watch bill for your division and I want it by 1700 today,” snapped Richards.
“Understood, sir,” replied Jerry, who then turned to Foster. “Senior Chief, I’ll take the first stab at the new three-section duty schedule while you handle the repair parts list and are looking in on the PM work. I’ll bring the schedule by for your review before I turn it in to the WEPS.”
“Yes, sir, if you insist, sir,” said Foster coldly.
“Yes, Senior Chief, I do insist. I need to start pulling my weight on this boat and I can begin by doing this. Oh, and Senior Chief, please pass on the news to the rest of the division. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”
Foster merely nodded and walked over to where Moran and company were performing the maintenance check.
“I expect your schedule to be correct, Mr. Mitchell,” warned Richards.
“Of course, sir. You’ve made that very clear. Now, if you will excuse me, sir.” And with that, Jerry headed back to his stateroom to begin his first assignment.
As Jerry was hustling back to his stateroom, he nearly collided with Lenny Berg as he and Washburn were leaving.
“That’s the second time in one day that I almost collided with you, Jerry!” exclaimed Berg, who feigned a fainting spell. “You, sir, are a menace to navigation.”
Jerry was also surprised by the near miss and while he heard Berg’s little quip, for some reason he homed in on the word “menace,” his former call sign. Jerry’s face must have been a looking glass to his heart as Berg quickly dropped his goofy smile and said, “Hey, Jerry, lighten up. It was only a joke. Hey, the Chop and I were just going to lunch. Care to join us? I know this neat little place down the passageway that serves great fried chicken.”
“Uh, no thanks, Lenny. I’m really not all that hungry and I have to redo the watch bill for the WEPS, so I guess I’ll pass.”
“Oh, Jerry, bad move, dude! You don’t want to insult the Chop here. You’ll find puree of peas at your next meal. It’s naasty.”
“Knock it off, Lenny,” said Washburn. “If the man has work to do and he wants to skip a meal, I will in no way be insulted. However, if I hear any more about the smashed peas I served with the fish and chips from you again, it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy!”
“Okay, okay! Some people just can’t handle honest criticism. See ya later, Jerry.”
Jerry entered his stateroom and retrieved the service jackets he had left on his bunk. He started to review them again with a new sense of purpose, as he had to identify who had the proper qualifications and compare the records to the original watch bill that Senior Chief Foster had put together. The process took longer than Jerry had thought it would, a lot longer. But at 1600, he had what he believed was a good draft watch bill. With an hour left before his deadline, Jerry returned the service jackets to YN1 Glover and he went in search of Senior Chief Foster.
When Jerry reached the torpedo room, Foster was nowhere to be found. Jerry looked around the room and saw one of the TMs cleaning up over by the port tube nest. As Jerry approached, the sailor stood up and Jerry recognized him as the second class he had seen earlier.
“Excuse me, Petty Officer Greer, do you know where I can find the senior chief?”
“No, sir, I haven’t seen him for about half an hour. He left after putting the repairs parts list together and filling out the electronic two-kilos,” replied Greer. The “two-kilo” is the standard Navy requisition form that has to be filled out for every spare part in the supply system. The fact that Foster had already done them was encouraging.
“Thank you, Petty Officer Greer. Maybe he’s in the chiefs’ quarters.”
“You’re welcome, sir. And if I see Senior Chief Foster, I’ll let him know you are looking for him.”
Jerry proceeded back toward the chiefs’ quarters, or Goat Locker, which was immediately outboard of the ship’s office in Forward compartment middle level. He was seasoned enough to know that a junior officer did not just barge into the Goat Locker; one knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter. Only the CO had the right to walk in without knocking, although a smart one did not, out of respect for his chiefs.
The door opened and a huge man poked his upper body through the clearly inadequate opening. The nametag said REYNOLDS and his collar devices had the anchor and two stars of a master chief. This man is the Chief of the Boat, Jerry thought. The Chief of the Boat, or COB, is the senior enlisted man on the submarine and the direct representative of the crew to the CO and XO.
“Yes, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” asked Reynolds in a voice that was as deep and impressive as his size.
Jerry momentarily hesitated, as all he could think of was the line from the original
“Senior Chief Foster, aye, wait one,” boomed the COB. Turning toward the interior of the chiefs’ quarters, he called, “Has anyone seen Foster?”
A voice from inside responded, “I saw him and Bearden heading to the torpedo shop on base about fifteen minutes ago.”
The COB turned around and said, “Did you get that, Mr. Mitchell?”
Jerry nodded and asked, “Did they say when they would be back?”
Again, the COB relayed the question. No one knew when they were to return. Now Jerry would have to take his draft watch bill to the WEPS without the most senior man in the division being able to review it and correct any mistakes he had made. As Jerry’s frustration grew, he was certain that the timing of this trip to the SUBASE torpedo shop wasn’t just a coincidence.
“Thank you, Master Chief. I’ll just finish up without him.”
“I prefer ‘COB,’ Mr. Mitchell, and welcome aboard.” Reynolds then extended his massive hand. Jerry gladly accepted the COB’s offer and as they shook hands, Jerry noticed that in addition to the silver dolphins on the COB’s chest, he also wore the helmet with sea horses pin of a master diver.
Jerry started heading toward the WEPS’ stateroom, then thought the better of it and went back to the torpedo room. Since Foster was unavailable, he would at least have TM1 Moran give it a quick look over. Arriving in the torpedo room, Jerry found Moran talking to the rest of the division about a problem they had discovered during the maintenance check that morning. As Jerry came up to the group, he didn’t immediately interrupt as Moran was going over the procedures that would have to be used to troubleshoot the problem. However, Jerry couldn’t help but notice that time was growing short and he raised his hand and made a slashing movement across his throat. Moran nodded his head in acknowledgement of Jerry’s order and sent the other TMs off to do some more cleaning before knocking off for the day. He reminded all of them to come back and see him before hitting the beach as the watch bill hadn’t been finalized yet.
“Yes, sir, you wanted to see me?” said Moran as he walked over to Jerry.
“Petty Officer Moran, I’d like you to take a few minutes and review this draft watch bill before I turn it in to the WEPS.”
“Sir, Senior Chief Foster typically reviews these,” replied Moran nervously.
“I understand that, Petty Officer Moran, but the Senior Chief isn’t on the boat right now and I have to turn this in soon. You’re the senior petty officer aboard right now, and I need a pair of experienced eyes to look it over.” Jerry smiled as he emphasized the last part, hoping to reduce the tension that he felt growing.
“Yes, sir, of course.” Moran took the paper from Jerry’s hand examined at the draft watch bill. Every now and then, Moran would look up at Jerry, clearly uncomfortable with the task. Jerry tried not to let on that he knew just how jittery Moran was; embarrassing him wouldn’t help the situation. Just what I need, Jerry thought, another scared rabbit. Moran soon finished and handed the paper back to his division officer.
“It looks good to me, sir. The only change I’d recommend is that you switch Seaman Jobin to my watch section. I’m his ‘sea daddy,’ his mentor, and I’ve been working with him now for the past two months. I’d like to keep him with me if you don’t mind.”
