isms, and while he often wondered who was paying the rent for all these free spirits, if these were the people he was in the Navy to protect and defend and they thought that drugs were just one part of the process of personal enlightenment, not in themselves evil and wrong, then maybe Rackman’s deal wasn’t such a bad thing. Somebody would supply the ship: Why not him, especially when the whole deal was being handed to him on a silver platter? He had experienced a sudden ambition to do better, much better, than continuing with his complacent drift toward the holy grail of twenty. Rackman’s offer suddenly looked tailor-made.
Rackman had explained that being the main man required intelligence, a great deal of acting ability, and effective cover—the very reasons, he said, he had picked Rocky. Rocky was obviously intelligent enough to get to first class in a highly technical rating, and it was equally obvious that he was a consummate actor: All the officers thought Rocky was a model petty officer. Plus, Rocky had damn-near-perfect cover: He was a member of the
“K*t
master-at-arms force, which would give him an inside look at any program the command put in motion to quash drug use aboard the ship.
Rackman had explained that the distribution system was already in place.
Rocky would deal with only one man, a black electrician’s mate first class who went by the name of Bullet. It was well known among the crew that Bullet was the acknowledged, if unofficial, leader of the younger, more radicalized blacks in Hood. Bullet ran a network he called his “associates.” A doper interested in scoring a little relaxation would strike up a casual conversation with one of the associates about his needs and desires and the associate would speculate on where something might be found after a certain time had passed.
The doper would then speculate about where a small wad of cash might be found and would then go off to wait a while before going exploring.
Rackman did not know and didn’t want to know precisely who Bullet’s associates were, other than to assume that all them were black. His righteous brothers, Bullet called them, just like the hit rock band.
Rocky could see that Bullet’s use of ancient racial fears as a tactic against infiltration or potential snitches was brilliant, especially since almost all of his customers were white.
Continuing aft, Rocky smiled again at his sweet deal.
Crewmen passing him in the passageway saw the smile and figured Rocky was thinking about his many women.
San Diego
“Tizzy, this is crazy!” Maddy Holcomb held on to what was left of her hairdo with her left hand while gripping the door-side armrest with her right. Tizzy Hudson just laughed and steered the convertible down the ramp from Highway 5 to the Rpsecrans exit at a speed that had Maddy pressing her right foot into the floorboards.
“Maddy, relax, for crying out loud,” said Tizzy, turning onto Rosecrans with only passing deference to the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp.
“Just because MCRD’s a meat market doesn’t mean you have to take one home with you. It’s perfectly okay just to go and watch. It’s even funny.”
“But we’re married, Tizzy. Tiz-zy!” Maddy squeaked as Tizzy cut off a bus trying to pull away from the curb.
“So’re half the women there, honey buns,” shouted Tizzy over the wind.
“I’ve been a good little nun for a whole month, and now I need to get out and rock and roll, just a little bit. MCRD’s perfect; you can find whatever you need there—a little or a lot. Like I said earlier, lots of people go there just to enjoy the show. Especially the Marines. Or better yet, the Marine aviators. They’re so full of themselves, it’s kind of fun to pretend to take them seriously, like they were humans or something. You know, ‘Oooh, you fly a Phantoml How totally groo-oovy!”
Then watch them squint their eyes trying to look like John Wayne while they light up a cigarette and say
Rackman had explained that being the main man required intelligence, a great deal of acting ability, and effective cover—the very reasons, he said, he had picked Rocky. Rocky was obviously intelligent enough to get to first class in a highly technical rating, and it was equally obvious that he was a consummate actor: All the officers thought Rocky was a model petty officer. Plus, Rocky had damn-near-perfect cover: He was a member of the
“K*t
master-at-arms force, which would give him an inside look at any program the command put in motion to quash drug use aboard the ship.
Rackman had explained that the distribution system was already in place.
Rocky would deal with only one man, a black electrician’s mate first class who went by the name of Bullet. It was well known among the crew that Bullet was the acknowledged, if unofficial, leader of the younger, more radicalized blacks in Hood. Bullet ran a network he called his “associates.” A doper interested in scoring a little relaxation would strike up a casual conversation with one of the associates about his needs and desires and the associate would speculate on where something might be found after a certain time had passed.
The doper would then speculate about where a small wad of cash might be found and would then go off to wait a while before going exploring.
Rackman did not know and didn’t want to know precisely who Bullet’s associates were, other than to assume that all them were black. His righteous brothers, Bullet called them, just like the hit rock band.
Rocky could see that Bullet’s use of ancient racial fears as a tactic against infiltration or potential snitches was brilliant, especially since almost all of his customers were white.
Continuing aft, Rocky smiled again at his sweet deal.
Crewmen passing him in the passageway saw the smile and figured Rocky was thinking about his many women.
San Diego
“Tizzy, this is crazy!” Maddy Holcomb held on to what was left of her hairdo with her left hand while gripping the door-side armrest with her right. Tizzy Hudson just laughed and steered the convertible down the ramp from Highway 5 to the Rpsecrans exit at a speed that had Maddy pressing her right foot into the floorboards.
“Maddy, relax, for crying out loud,” said Tizzy, turning onto Rosecrans with only passing deference to the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp.
“Just because MCRD’s a meat market doesn’t mean you have to take one home with you. It’s perfectly okay just to go and watch. It’s even funny.”
“But we’re married, Tizzy. Tiz-zy!” Maddy squeaked as Tizzy cut off a bus trying to pull away from the curb.
“So’re half the women there, honey buns,” shouted Tizzy over the wind.
“I’ve been a good little nun for a whole month, and now I need to get out and rock and roll, just a little bit. MCRD’s perfect; you can find whatever you need there—a little or a lot. Like I said earlier, lots of people go there just to enjoy the show. Especially the Marines. Or better yet, the Marine aviators. They’re so full of themselves, it’s kind of fun to pretend to take them seriously, like they were humans or something. You know, ‘Oooh, you fly a Phantoml How totally groo-oovy!”
Then watch them squint their eyes trying to look like John Wayne while they light up a cigarette and say
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