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Authors: Taylor Anderson
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Asiatic Fleet, and he and Chief Bosun’s Mate Fitzhugh Gray had been with the ship longer than anyone now alive. Spanky was Minister of Naval Engineering for the entire Alliance, but he’d also recently become Walker ’s executive officer. There was no question which of the two he personally considered the more important job. “I think I’m happier to see the oilers she’s got with her! This little jaunt to meet our friends is liable to leave our bunkers suckin’ air!” he added.
Chief Gray grunted agreement. In contrast to Spanky, Gray was almost as tall as Captain Reddy and even more powerfully built—despite being “in the vicinity” of sixty. The flab he’d accumulated after years on the China Station had reverted to muscle since “the Squall,” and, physically, he’d thrived on their adventures. He’d also become something far beyond a chief bosun’s mate, although that “something” was still ill-defined. Carl Bashear had taken his old job aboard Walker , but even he considered Gray as something like a “super bosun.” Most of the surviving original destroyermen from Walker and her lost sister Mahan had been promoted, many to a lofty status; so had the survivors of the old submarine S-19. Matt refused to appoint himself anything higher than captain, but he’d been acclaimed commander in chief, and there was only one “Captain Reddy.” For Gray, it was even more complicated. He wore a lot of different hats now; he commanded the Captain’s Guard detail, for example, but he’d been the highest-ranking NCO on Walker , and for his deeds and vast moral authority, he’d become the most exalted NCO in the Alliance. Few officers would’ve even considered actually giving him an order. He’d even refused orders issued by Adar, the High Chief and Sky Priest of Baalkpan, and Chairman of the Grand Alliance, because they’d interfered with his Navy oath! What kind of “promotion” could possibly have meaning for the man? Matt thought he finally had it and was toying with the establishment of “Chief Bosun of the Navy,” which would basically confirm Gray’s “super bosun” status.
It would be more than just a title. Matt knew chiefs had their own culture, almost like an exclusive fraternity one never really left even if they received commissions. With all the Lemurian “chiefs” entering the fold, it was probably time for that growing fraternity to have some form of “supreme authority” of its own before they made up too many new, wacky rules. The age-old, traditional strife between the deck (ape) divisions and the engineering (snipe) divisions served a purpose, but Matt could see things getting out of hand as time went by—as things became more dominated by the very literal-minded Lemurians. The last thing they needed was an equivalent to warring labor unions aboard Navy ships! Gray could lay down the law and establish firm traditions everyone would respect—while making sure the chiefs maintained that unifying brotherhood that made them so effective at not only controlling their divisions and getting along with one another, solving little problems aboard ship before they became big enough that officers had to “notice” them, and frankly, culling poor performers from their own ranks.
“Oil’s a fine thing,” Gray grumbled, “but I’m just as happy to see those new steam frigates, or ‘DDs’ I guess they’re callin’ ’em.” He seemed unhappy with the term. “What are their names?”
Matt looked through his binoculars. “They’re flying their numbers, so I guess the one to leeward of Salaama-Na is Mertz , named for our old
“A hell of a thing,” Gray snorted. “Get killed servin’ sammitches, and they name a destroyer after you!” He looked at the surprised expressions. “Not that I’m against it! Besides, it’ll be a hoot to see how Lanier reacts! Mertz deserves a statue for puttin’ up with that nasty, bloated bastard so long.” Earl Lanier was Walker ’s
Chief Gray grunted agreement. In contrast to Spanky, Gray was almost as tall as Captain Reddy and even more powerfully built—despite being “in the vicinity” of sixty. The flab he’d accumulated after years on the China Station had reverted to muscle since “the Squall,” and, physically, he’d thrived on their adventures. He’d also become something far beyond a chief bosun’s mate, although that “something” was still ill-defined. Carl Bashear had taken his old job aboard Walker , but even he considered Gray as something like a “super bosun.” Most of the surviving original destroyermen from Walker and her lost sister Mahan had been promoted, many to a lofty status; so had the survivors of the old submarine S-19. Matt refused to appoint himself anything higher than captain, but he’d been acclaimed commander in chief, and there was only one “Captain Reddy.” For Gray, it was even more complicated. He wore a lot of different hats now; he commanded the Captain’s Guard detail, for example, but he’d been the highest-ranking NCO on Walker , and for his deeds and vast moral authority, he’d become the most exalted NCO in the Alliance. Few officers would’ve even considered actually giving him an order. He’d even refused orders issued by Adar, the High Chief and Sky Priest of Baalkpan, and Chairman of the Grand Alliance, because they’d interfered with his Navy oath! What kind of “promotion” could possibly have meaning for the man? Matt thought he finally had it and was toying with the establishment of “Chief Bosun of the Navy,” which would basically confirm Gray’s “super bosun” status.
It would be more than just a title. Matt knew chiefs had their own culture, almost like an exclusive fraternity one never really left even if they received commissions. With all the Lemurian “chiefs” entering the fold, it was probably time for that growing fraternity to have some form of “supreme authority” of its own before they made up too many new, wacky rules. The age-old, traditional strife between the deck (ape) divisions and the engineering (snipe) divisions served a purpose, but Matt could see things getting out of hand as time went by—as things became more dominated by the very literal-minded Lemurians. The last thing they needed was an equivalent to warring labor unions aboard Navy ships! Gray could lay down the law and establish firm traditions everyone would respect—while making sure the chiefs maintained that unifying brotherhood that made them so effective at not only controlling their divisions and getting along with one another, solving little problems aboard ship before they became big enough that officers had to “notice” them, and frankly, culling poor performers from their own ranks.
“Oil’s a fine thing,” Gray grumbled, “but I’m just as happy to see those new steam frigates, or ‘DDs’ I guess they’re callin’ ’em.” He seemed unhappy with the term. “What are their names?”
Matt looked through his binoculars. “They’re flying their numbers, so I guess the one to leeward of Salaama-Na is Mertz , named for our old
“A hell of a thing,” Gray snorted. “Get killed servin’ sammitches, and they name a destroyer after you!” He looked at the surprised expressions. “Not that I’m against it! Besides, it’ll be a hoot to see how Lanier reacts! Mertz deserves a statue for puttin’ up with that nasty, bloated bastard so long.” Earl Lanier was Walker ’s
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