Juneau

Chapter 1

I could see the Buffalo, New York skyline as I walked the old destroyer’s main deck. Its main deck sloped gently from bow to stern brought back memories. I picked up the scent of fuel oil and grease. It is a smell that really never disappears. The deck slopped at a slight angle towards the fantail. The haze gray paint and the smell of fuel oil brought back old memories. Nearly thirty-five years ago I, as a boot seaman apprentice, served in the USS The Sullivans for a few days. The destroyer The Sullivans was transferred to the naval reserve training forces, and her homeport was changed to New York City on April 1st, 1964.

I stepped into the deckhouse. I started walking forward in the long passageway that ran the length of the main deck. I vaguely remembered where the ship’s office and the sickbay had been. I walked forward towards a set of ladders that led topside to officer’s country, and the pilothouse. A plaque bolted to the bulkhead caught my eyes. It was made of red wood, stained to a high gloss. In the center of the plaque was a picture of the famous Sullivan brothers’. What were these five men like, what was that generation like.

Most of the young men that were born in the early nineteen twenties ended up in poverty. Their families, once middle class, others somewhat affluent ended up in the streets when the stock market crashed that October day. They suffered through the depression ravished thirties. They didn’t have anything. But when their country called, the Sullivan brothers like millions of other young men responded.

Dressed in a heavy robe Alleta Sullivan started to prepare breakfast. She lifted the cast iron lid of the stove and sighed. "Tom we don’t have fire wood!"

Thomas Sullivan adjusted his shirt and pulled his suspenders over his shoulders. He walked out of the bathroom and looked down the hallway. He heard the boys kibitzing as they dressed and prepared for school. "Porgie get some firewood for your mother."

George Sullivan yelled from his room. "Ah dad! Stop calling me Porgie! It’s bad enough these guys call me that. By the way, it’s Matt’s turn to get the wood!"

"Okay then. Matt get the firewood, or else there won’t be breakfast this morning."

"It is not my turn it is Franks. I got the wood yesterday."

"You did not. I did." Frank yelled from the bedroom he shared with George. George yelled from the room also. "That’s right. I seen Frank and I helped him."

"Okay Porgie. You want to be like that. Porgie, Porgie!"

"Dad! Tell him to stop calling me Porgie!"

Thomas Sullivan walked down the hallway and stood between the two rooms. "Matt get the firewood, and you George stop crying like a baby."

"Ah okay dad. But it’s not fair. I got the wood yesterday not Frank." Matt brushed past his father and headed downstairs. Thomas followed close behind.

George stood in the doorway of the room Matt, Joe and Al Sullivan slept in. "And what are you laughing at Short Change?"

Albert Sullivan, the youngest of the clan pushed the blanket off of his face. "Porgie, Porgie."

Frank Sullivan leaned on George’s shoulder and looked into the crowded bedroom. "I can’t wait till you get older Short Change. I’m going to enjoy watching you lug that fire wood by yourself."

Al giggled and pulled the blanket over his face again. "Porgie! Porgie!"

In the kitchen Matt pulled his coat on and looked at his mother. "It ain’t fair mom. I got the wood yesterday."

May Abel put a pot of water on the cast iron stove. "Don’t give your mother a hard time. Go and get the wood so that we can have breakfast."

With his head hung low Matt replied in a sarcastic tone. "Yes grandma. "

"Don’t give me no lip Matt."

Matt stepped onto the small porch and pulled the kitchen door shut. A wisp of vapor escaped from his mouth. Matt pulled his coat tighter. The winter morning was cold and a thin layer of snow covered the ground. Matt walked to the back of the house and opened the wood box. He pulled several pieces of wood from the box and balanced them in his arms. This really stinks. I got the wood yesterday. I’ll get even with those guys. Matt started walking back to the house. Suddenly he stopped. Something caught his attention. He stood staring at the object for several seconds.

"Matt! Get in here with that wood." Matt turned and saw May Abel standing holding the door open. "Now Matt!"

"I’m coming." Matt felt like telling the woman to hold her horses but decided against it. He now walked a little faster. In the house he assisted May Abel and his mother in starting the fire in the cast iron stove. Soon heat and the aroma of breakfast was emanating from the kitchen. With the breakfast table set, the Sullivan clan made their way from their rooms and took their assigned seats. They ate quietly. Thomas Sullivan was the first to finish. He rose from the table pulled on his heavy coat and picked up his lunch pail. Kissing Alleta on the forehead he left for work.