“Not been here in a while. Looks like they cleaned the place up a little.”
Clarence still avoided Biggs’s eyes, noticed the Russo family, said, “That your buddy, right? Italian kid?”
“Yeah, Pop. Ray Russo.”
Clarence grunted, offered nothing more. The voices of the crowd seemed to drift over them like a blanket, hiding the awkwardness of their own silence. Biggs eyed the train schedule, flapping numbers on the wall.
“Looks like they’re boarding.” He looked at his mother, saw her tears. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m gonna be great. It’s a good place for me to be. And there’s Ray, too. I already got a friend.”
She squeezed his arm one last time, released it, said slowly, “You’ll do real good. Make sure you write us letters. Tell us where you are.”
“Sure thing, Mom.”
He looked at his father, still gazing around the tall ceilings.
“I gotta go, Pop.”
“So, how far does the train go?”
“I’ll end up in Chicago. It’s a bus the rest of the way.”
“Long damn way. I thought the navy floated boats. Not sure what you’re gonna do in Illinois, for God’s sake.”
“It’s the training center, Pop. Basic training. I gotta start there.”
There was another grunt, then a long silent minute. Biggs checked the board again.
“I need to go. They’re boarding.”
His mother clasped her hands in front of her, managed a smile. “Be careful, Thomas. You can come home anytime. We love you. Don’t forget that.”
Clarence looked at his son finally, seemed to struggle for words. “Listen…um…Look, I ain’t never had nothing to give you. A man’s supposed to take care of his family, and I know I ain’t done such a good job.” Biggs wanted to interrupt, something holding him back. Let him speak. “Your mother knows how hard it’s been.” Clarence looked down. “I’m nobody. I done nothing. I gave nothing to nobody. Except I gave you to her. You and her…you’re all I got.” His eyes came up again, and Biggs saw him blinking away tears. “Boy, I just want one thing from you. Do good. Do something you’ll be proud of. Do something they’ll remember you for.”
GREAT LAKES, ILLINOIS—FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 1941
“Take a good look around you! Look every man in the eyes. Do it!”
Biggs obeyed, the rest of the company as well, the faces so familiar, all those men who had been through so many weeks of the same ordeal. No one was smiling, every man expecting some arbitrary punishment merely for turning his head. They were used to that now, the part of basic training that served no more purpose than to remind them just who was in charge. Biggs stared again to the front, eyes on the man they all knew as the “Recruit Division Commander.” He stood in front of them, hands locked behind his back, his winter jacket open to the brutal cold, a familiar display of toughness from the man nearly all of the recruits had grown to hate.
After a long moment, he said, “That’s enough. Eyes front!” He paused, a quick scan through the formation. “Are you cold, pukes? Hell, it’s damn near spring! You got your damn jackets on, so if I hear any teeth chattering, or anybody bitching, you can all strip down to your skivvies. Any complaints? Good. Now listen up!”
He crossed his arms now, his fierce expression mellowing. “This is a day every one of you will remember. Every man here has made it through basic training. You don’t need a drill instructor, no more RDC. From now on, you will refer to me as Chief Monroe. But remember this. When you arrived here, there were a hell of a lot more of you. Some of you washed out. Just quit. They’re back home now, crying to their mamas that this was too hard. Why? They weren’t any weaker or any stupider than you pukes. They just didn’t believe me. Six weeks ago, I told them, like I told you, you can do this. You want to be a sailor, you’ll have to do this. The first day you were here, I told you that if you’d work, you’d make it through basic training. I told you that all you had to do was pay attention to me, and do what the hell you were told.
“Most of you, once in a while, you needed a boot up your ass. But every one of you, you had to learn to eat right, walk right, talk right, you had to learn what a head was, a piece, boondockers, swabs, the brig, chow, galley, and fish. You did enough push-ups to shove this ground halfway to China. You ran so many miles around this base, you coulda run back to your mamas. But you didn’t. You’ve learned what the navy expects of you, what the officers will expect of you, what the men around you expect of you. When you arrived here, most of you thought a ship was just a big boat, and a screw was something you did in the back of your daddy’s car. You’ve learned about mechanics, about gunnery, about what you need to do to function on a ship, any ship in the navy. And a hell of a lot more.”
He paused. “The army’s out there somewhere, ground-pounders getting all impressed with the rifle in their hands, playing with a bayonet, covering up their tender ears when a single artillery piece goes off. But you…a good many of you will either be serving aboard or serving alongside a floating weapon that is more powerful than your granddaddies could ever imagine. A light cruiser today has more firepower than any fleet of ships from years ago. The entire Union Navy in the Civil War couldn’t stand up to a single destroyer today. And even today, right now, there is no modern navy anywhere in the world superior to ours. To yours.” Monroe stopped, scanned them all. “It is my duty to inform you, all of you, no matter how useless you might be, that officially, my job is finished. Your basic training is complete. You may stand at ease.”
The outburst was spontaneous, hands in the air, a hard cheer that Biggs shared. Monroe allowed himself a slight smile, but he wasn’t done just yet.
“Listen up, you pukes. I got one more thing to say, and you better pay attention. Your assignments will come later today, and I had nothing to do with that. So don’t come bitching to me if you end up on a garbage scow on Lake Erie. There’s a good chance you’ll be assigned to duty in the Atlantic, whether escorting cargo or helping find those damn Nazi U-boats. Some of you might keep in tight to the East Coast, but don’t think that’s easy duty. I’m hearing that in places like Miami or Charleston, Boston, even New York, there’s more stupidity from civilians than even from you misfits. They won’t shut down the city lights at night, and U-boats are taking advantage, using those lights to locate and silhouette merchant ships. A damn freighter goes up in a fireball, and Miami Beach gets all excited, like it’s the damned Fourth of July. The war isn’t just way the hell over in Europe. It’s close by. So no bitching if you get assigned destroyer duty out of Norfolk, or Savannah, or anyplace else.
“Those of you who showed more brains on paper than you ever showed me, you might get assigned to engineer or radio school. If you put in for some other kind of specialty, you’ll find out if you measured up, if the navy thinks as much of you as you do. Most all of you will leave here as an E-1. Bottom rung. Some will be notified they’ve advanced to E-2. Don’t get a swelled head. Doesn’t mean you outrank anybody, or you’re gonna get a big fat raise. What it will do is give you a better chance at whatever job you’re hoping to get.