to curse at me, using vile profanity. “Callihan, you “F”n Idiot, don’t you know your left from your right? You G.D. Moron, when I give the order to go to the right, you go to the right!”
I must admit, my live and let live nature had always made me look like a dream come true to bullies. But unfortunately, I was of the mind to let die, if that was what a bully wanted me to do. I loved to make their expected dream into their worst nightmare. I had been taught never to be a bully, never pick a fight with anyone. But…if any bully was dumb enough to pick a fight with me, I should not walk away until I found out who won. Of course, I always fought with the desire to win (almost always… there was one time, when I had to fight my best friend. My heart was not in it, and I lost).
So I asked myself what is the best way of dealing with this idiot. Realizing he had no authority to be speaking to me like this, I decided to ignore him. Turning to the guy next to me I said, “I don’t believe this weather. I think it might snow (this with a blizzard gong on).” Understanding what I was doing, he replied, “I think you may be right.” I then said, “I can’t believe this, it’s May. Back in Florida where I come from, it’s in the eighties.” To this, my friend replied, “I wish I was in Florida right now.”
All during my conversation Dumbo was standing to my left side, spouting out words which confirmed he suffered from a bad case of moron mouth. One of his Flunkies happened to be standing behind me. He took it on him self to push me in the shoulder blade, saying, “That’s you he’s talking to!” Turning around to face him, still ignoring the presence of the idiot, I said, “Yeah, you’d better tell him to shut up, before he gets into trouble.”
Finally I had enough! Turning to face the Moron Mouth, I held my rifle in my hands, ready to swing it hard toward his face. Looking him coldly in the eyes I said, “If you don’t want this rifle butt to become part of your butt, you’d better shut up, NOW!” Dumbo shouted back at me saying, “Oh Yeah!” Swinging the rifle butt toward his face, I said “Oh Yeah!” I thought to myself, I’ll try to stop in time, if I do, he’s lucky, if I don’t he’s very unlucky.
It turned out he was a very lucky guy. I was able to stop about a half an inch from his jaw. Poor Dumbo turned whiter than the snow; he knew he had almost lost some teeth. He immediately began apologizing to me very sincerely. I looked at him and said, “I think you should apologize. Just who the Hell do you think you are talking to me like that? Do you know how close you came to loosing all your teeth?” “Yes, and I’m very sorry to have spoken like I did. I was wrong, please forgive me.” Typical Bully Type! I just smiled at him and said, “I’ll let you go this time, but if there’s ever another time, I guarantee, you won’t have a tooth left in your head.”
CAN YOU BELIEVE? IT GETS EVEN BETTER!
Finally, we were down to just two days of Boot Camp left. My incident on the parade ground had happened only a day earlier. On that second to last day, we had just finished having lunch. Upon returning to the barracks, as usual, many were engaged in various activities. Some were having conversations, others were reading a book, while still others were writing a letter home. No one was sitting on their bunk, as that was not allowed. All were either standing around or sitting down at the small tables in the center isle of the barracks. I was in the process of attempting to hang my P coat when suddenly it happened.
The three guys from Brooklyn, Dumbo, Dumb, & Dumber, had gathered around Jim, who was sitting at one of the tables. All of a sudden, they let out with a vicious attack. Immediately Jim’s nose began to bleed. Customarily, Jim began to laugh saying his usual, “Hit me again – hit me here!”
All at once one of the guys who was sitting at a table about four feet away from the Dummies, jumped to his feet. “ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH! THIS POOR KID IS MENTALLY SICK, AND I’M TIRED OF WATCHING YOU TORMENT HIM. IT WILL STOP – AND STOP NOW!” To this, the chief Dummy, Dumbo replied, “Whose going to stop us?” “I AM!” the good guy answered. “You, and who else?”
I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that question. In fact, I missed the hook, dropping my coat as I rushed to stand beside the good guy who had demanded they stop. What happened next looked like a scene from a movie. It was almost as if it was choreographed, but this was real life.
One by one, the guys put down their books or letters. They stopped their conversations. It got really still, as one by one they either came to stand beside me and my brave friend, or beside the Dummies. Sadly, of the 79 people there, it was like a 50 – 50 split. Half of them liked being sadistic, enjoying the torture of a fellow human being, while the other half by now knew Jim was mentally gone. He did not deserve receiving such treatment. It had to come to an end, and if it took a fight, so be it!
As we were picking out who we wanted to fight, I turned to my friend – the instigator, and I asked him a favor. “Bill, you can have the other two, but I want the one with the mouth. I have some unfinished business with him.” “I know, I heard what happened yesterday on the parade ground. O. K., as much as I’d like to have him, he’s yours.” I pointed to Dumbo, and grinned with a big smile on my face. To his credit, he pointed back at me, but I just knew I was going to enjoy this fight.
Once everyone was in position, we started slowly moving toward our intended target, pointing to them all the way. Then suddenly, there it was again, the mystery voice came from behind saying, “Wait! If we fight over this kid, we will be here for six months. We only have one more day to go through, then it’s home. Think about it, this kid is not worth it!” The Dummies agreed saying, “O.K., the kid’s not worth it!” My instigator friend then said, “O.K. But if any of you try to hurt this kid again, NO ONE will stop me from hurting you!”
I REALLY LIKED THAT GUY – KIND OF REMINDS ME OF ME – I WISH I COULD REMEMBER HIS NAME!
SADLY THIS STORY DOESN’T END HERE
It did not take long after this incident until Jim was removed from our company. Sadly, the next and our last day, we got to hear news regarding what had happened to Jim. He had been sent to the base psychiatrist for evaluation. This so called “psychiatrist” was being paid much more than he was worth. The word we received about Jim’s fate made me all the more angry at the injustice of it.
On that last day, we learned that before sunset of the previous day, Jim had been declared by the psychiatrist to be unfit for military duty. He was issued a dishonorable (not a medical) discharge, and given a bus ticket to go back home to Brooklyn. Jim was being sent back to that poor excuse for a father, the one who had given him a swollen lip and black eye to take with him to Boot Camp.
Some help for Jim! You’ll never know how I wished I could give that “so called” “Psychiatrist” a piece of my fist. I could not get him fired, as should have been done. But maybe a bloody lip and a black eye or two would have gotten some sort of justice for Jim.
I don’t make it a practice of reliving this part of my adventures in Navyland. It still is painful, as I can see Jim’s face, the blood, and hear his laughter as he was being tortured. I do however pray for Jim whenever I recall this incident. I know his life could not have been an easy one. A Dishonorable Discharge almost assured that Jim would not easily find a good job. I pray satan was not able to lead Jim into committing suicide. I pray also, that he found Jesus, and came to know Him as his Lord and Savior. I pray that in doing so, Jim was able to forgive me, and the others who did not at first understand his story. Now, as you have finished reading his story, would you also please pray for Jim, that’s not his real name, but God knows who we are talking about.
Chapter Four
X DIVISION OFFERS HOPE
Upon returning from Boot Camp, I and the other twenty nine lucky guys who had been “volunteered” to be Firemen & Boiler Tenders were assigned that first day to be in what they called “X” Division, onboard the training ship, the USS Greenwood. We were told “X Division” meant we were to be treated like tourists. A Chief Quartermaster was assigned to be our tour guide.
As