The caper had all the ingredients to make it a big caper: heroes (at lest in their own minds), a damsel (though maybe not in distress), and a crime (where conviction could mean life imprisonment). And of course (and most of all) true love!
I was the senior hero with the rank of Navy Lieutenant; while the other two heroes Richard and Jerry were one rank below as Lieutenants, Junior Grade. It was November 1967, and our air patrol squadron just returned from a six-month deployment to the Far East, flying reconnaissance flights off the coasts of South Vietnam, North Korea, China, and Russia.
We first met the damsel in the snack room of the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters at our home base, Whidbey Island in Washington State. It was a Monday a little after five, and we just got off work and stopped at the snack room to buy some cokes and peanuts from the machines.
The small nondescript room had several round tables and there were two female Ensigns sitting at one of them. One was cute; she had the girl-next-door, wholesomeness look. The other was about twenty pounds overweight, and therefore did not have any kind of look that would attract the twenty-seven year old me.
Jerry said, “My, My! What do we have here?” I was never sure that he meant to say that out loud, and I do believe that the cute one smiled slightly. Having female officers billeted in the BOQ was new. In fact having women officers at Whidbey was also a first, except for the nurses who always lived in a mysterious place called “Nurses’ Quarters.” Before, all the officers billeted at the BOQ were male, with most being pilots and navigators in their twenties assigned to the several air patrol and carrier based attack squadrons stationed at the base.
After we got our cokes and peanuts Jerry walked over to the table with the two female offices and asked it we could join them. They both smiled and said that we could. We sat down and I ended up next to the cute Ensign.
Since everyone was in uniform, complete with nametags, we immediately knew each other’s last name and rank. While sipping our cokes and nibbling our snacks we exchanged some general information: we told them that we just got back from the “War” – trying to make it sound as exciting and dangerous as we can; they told us that they just graduated college in June where they received their commissions in the NROTC program. They were assigned to the base administration office along with several other female officers.
It had been over six months since Richard, Jerry, and I talked to American girls. We were enjoying ourselves, even if we were just making small talk, telling each other what colleges we went to while sitting in the drab, Spartan snack room.
For the first several minutes we addressed each other formally: Richard, Jerry, and I called the young women “Ensign,” and they called us “Sir” or “Mister” followed by our last name.
After several rounds of “Ensigns,” “Sirs,” and “Misters” Jerry said, “Please call me Jerry.” Then he asked them, “What are your names?” The cute one was named Susan, and the other one was Terry. Richard joined in on the informality and said, “I’m Richard.”
After some more small talk Susan turned to me and asked, “What may I call you?”
“Well, ‘Tom’ is really too informal; so I think you better call me ‘Sir Thomas!’” I tried to maintain my celebrated straight face, but it cracked.
When she realized I was kidding she smiled and gave my arm a slight slap. “Sir Thomas in deed!”
I replied, “Striking a senior officer! That’s a court marshal offence!”
Richard said, “I didn’t see anything.”
Jerry followed with, “Neither did I.”
We all laughed, and went back to some more small talk. A little after six Richard asked our new friends if they would like to join us for dinner. But they said that they had other plans.
After work the next day Richard, Jerry, and I made sure to drop by the snack room. Susan and Terry were there, but this time two guys were sitting with them. I recognized the officers as pilots from an attack squadron. But when Susan saw us she smiled and gave us a little wave. After we bought our obligatory cokes and snacks, Richard, Jerry, and I pulled up some chairs and joined Susan, Terry, and the two attack pilots.
We exchanged “Good Afternoons.” When I sat down Susan asked, “And how are you, Sir Thomas?”
“Fine! And you Ensign Sue?” I responded. We started some small talk again; picking up on some of the threads of our conversation from the day before. After several minutes the two attack pilots got up and left, just nodding their goodbyes.
During our conversation, we found out that Susan’s father was a Navy captain, one rank below admiral. Since Richard’s father was a two-star admiral, they were both “Navy Brats.” Richard and Susan started talking about bases and countries they lived in while growing up.
Again Susan and Terry declined our invitation to dinner but we made plans for Wednesday night. We said our goodbyes with Susan adding, “We’ll go Dutch.”
On Wednesday evening we decided to have dinner out in town. After changing into our civvies we met outside by the parking lot. Once ready to leave and realizing that we would need two cars, Richard said, “I’ll take Susan in my car.” I took Jerry and Terry in my Mustang.
Dinner was pleasant with Richard, Jerry, and I still enjoying the newness of being in the company of American girls. After dinner we divvied up the check and made promises to do it again.
Friday after work there was the squadron almost mandatory happy hour at the officers’ club. During happy hours, lines of tables would be set up for each squadron to fit thirty to forty men. Within the squadron tables dice would be tossed and tall tales of derring-do loudly told. Challenges would be exchanged among squadron tables. Songs would be sung and chugalug contests held. Rules would be enforced: no wives and girlfriends were allowed, and the first wife to call her husband at the club meant that the husband had to buy a round of drinks for his squadron.
Our first Friday happy hour since our return was typical, except for the newly assign women officers. Six lines of tables were set up for the attack and patrol squadrons, while Susan and Terry were seated in a booth off to the side with several other young women officers.
After happy hour, which lasted almost two hours, we decided to continue our squadron party at a married pilot’s house off base. Phone calls were made; the primary one made by the pilot to his wife to warn her that within an hour or two there would be about twenty to thirty people invading their home. Other officers called their wives to have them arrange babysitters if necessary and get ready to go to the after happy hour party.
Richard, Jerry, and I went to our rooms to change into our civilian clothes. After changing, Jerry and I dropped by Richard’s room. When we asked if he was ready to go, Richard told us that he would meet us at the party.
When Jerry and I got to the party, after stopping for a quick dinner of burgers and fries, we were not too surprised to find Richard with Susan. I gave them my best all-knowing look and said, “Oh look! It’s the Navy brats.” While Susan blushed, Jerry just shook his head.
 |
For the next few weeks Richard and Susan were considered a couple. There were no more get-togethers in the snack room, no more group dinners. Richard and Susan were going to dinner during the week, and taking in a movie on Saturday nights. Their Sundays were spent sightseeing on Whidbey Island. And they went together to our squadron’s Friday after happy hour party.
At work Jerry and I teased Richard whenever we could. But we knew that the Navy brats were meant for each other.
Then something happened.
After almost two months of “going together” Jerry and I realized that Richard and Susan weren’t going to dinner or doing anything together anymore. One evening Jerry and I stopped by Richard’s room to ask him if he was having dinner with Susan; he said no. When we asked him if he would want to go with us, he again said no.
Jerry and I agreed that Richard seemed to be moping around during work hours as well as after. Richard was eating alone, usually just getting a burger at the Navy Exchange snack bar. By Friday there was still no Susan-Richard reunion. Jerry and I never did ask what happen. It was one of those Navy rules; guys did not ask other guys such personal questions.
At happy hour I noticed that Susan was not with Terry and the other women officers at their now usual booth. When the house was selected for after happy hour party, I asked Richard if he wanted to go with Jerry and me. He said that he would take his own car because he would probably leave early.
After Richard left for the party, Jerry and I stayed for one more round. We talked some more about how unhappy Richard was. We then left to change into our civvies. On the way to the BOQ Jerry said that we should stop by Susan’s room to see if she would want to go to the party with us.
When we got to Susan’s room we found the door discreetly left opened. I knocked but did not wait for an answer and entered the room with Jerry close behind me. Susan was sitting on her bed with her back against the headboard. She was wearing her loose fitting, gray, Navy-issue sweat suit. Her sweatshirt had “NAVY” printed in blue across the front. To complete the outfit she was wearing sweat socks; her sneakers were lying on the floor near the bed.
Sitting on the chair next to her bed was one of the attack pilots from the snack room weeks before. Breaking into their conversation and ignoring the pilot I said to Susan, “We dropped by to see if you would like to go to the party.”
She smiled slightly but said, “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”
But before she could finish, Jerry was already going toward her bed. He then swept her up. Being well built and over six-feet, while Susan was a slim five-one, Jerry was able to do his sweep quickly and gracefully in one smooth movement.
Years later while watching ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’ I was reminded of Jerry’s swept. At the end of the movie the officer, Richard Gere, swept the willing girl, Debra Winger, off her feet. But Jerry did it much better and without benefit of rehearsals, dramatic music, or a completely willing damsel.
The attack pilot was only slightly more shocked that I was. Jerry was already out the door when I said to the pilot, “It’s okay. We’re just taking her to our squadron party.” I then grabbed Susan’s sneakers and walked quickly out the door. But the attack pilot still did nothing! I was never able to determine if it was because of my reassuring words or if he was just in a daze.
I soon caught up to Jerry. When he got to the stairs he swung Susan over his shoulder, carrying her like a fireman. I followed them down the stairs. From over Jerry’s back Susan looked up at me; there was some uncertainty expressed in her face. I smiled as warmly as I could and said, “It will be okay. We’re just taking you to the party. It’ll be okay.” Than I added, “Richard really misses you.” Again with all the boyish charm I could muster I continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there okay.” I figured if I said “okay” enough time I might even convince myself.
Once on the ground floor we rushed through the front lobby, past several stunned officers and stewards. I pushed open the doors and once outside I guided Jerry to my Mustang. I opened the door and pushed forward the front seat. Jerry gently lowered Susan into the backseat. I handed Susan her sneakers. Jerry got in the front and I started the car.
While looking at Susan in the rearview mirror, I said one more time, “It will be okay.” Susan’s expression was a blank. Maybe she couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell, cry, or laugh. But she remained completely silent throughout the ride. Jerry also did not say anything. He just had a big smile on his face.
I drove to the main gate and made the required stop; the Marine guard after inspecting my base bumper sticker saluted smartly and waved us through. I returned his salute and headed to the house of the party. On the drive there I noticed Susan putting on her sneakers.
I started to feel relieved. Susan never called out for help – not in her room, not in the lobby, and not at the main gate. She even put on her sneakers! But would any of that make any difference during my court marshal? I decided that if it ever came to a court marshal, I would just ask for mercy and say that I did it for “true love.” And if that didn’t work, I would say “Jerry made me do it!” and cry a lot.
When I parked in front of the house, Jerry opened his door and pushed forward his seat. Susan started getting out, but Jerry picked her up and swung her over his shoulder again. He simply said, “I carried you this far; I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
I lead the way to the front door and knocked. I found the door unlocked and pushed it opened, again not waiting for an answer. Chairs and couches in the living and dining rooms were filled with our friends, including the wives of the married guys. Richard was sitting on the floor a little aloof from several other guys who were also on the floor. Richard looked lonely with his back against the wall with a beer in his hand.
Jerry spotted Richard and marched directly to him with Susan over his shoulder. Once again gracefully, gently, and silently he slid Susan off his shoulder and placed her right next to Richard.
Our mission accomplished, Jerry and I retreated to the kitchen to find our reward. We each helped ourself to a well-deserved beer.
After several minutes Jerry and I decided to look in on Richard and Susan. They were talking and after awhile Richard got up and got a coke for Susan.
Our work done Jerry and I decided to go, leaving Richard to drive Susan back to the base. On our drive back Jerry said, “They’re sure made for each other.”
Agreeing I said, “Yeah, they sure are.” We were two happy cupids congratulating each other in our little caper.
In June Richard and Susan were married. It was a big wedding held in the base chapel. Most of the officers from the squadron and the base’s administration office attended. But since the groom’s father was an admiral, and the bride’s father a captain, so did all of the big brass stationed at the base.
The receiving line was long and generally formed by order of rank. Jerry and I hung back. When it was my chance to kiss the bride, she said, “Well if it isn’t Sir Thomas.”
I replied, “What’s new Ensign Sue?”