Chapter Thirteen of In the Shadow of Sin

Chapter Thirteen

The thing about swimming was this: Joe had swum in the creeks around his house, but they weren't deep. So, when they lined up at the Navy's huge, deep pool, and the officer barked out an order, Joe figured he'd better be honest and say he had been swimming before.

No one knew the fate of the non swimmers. To be honest, no one knew the fate of the swimmers either. To swim from end to end was intimidating. He was sure it would be more than he could handle. To swim from side to side, well, in a pinch, he probably could muster the strength to get from one side to the other. The recruits had just done their morning hike in full gear. The officer took them into the pool area. Joe figured the, drill instructor was just showing them where the swimming test was going to be held. It never occurred to him that they were going to do the test, because all had on backpacks, heavy boots, and their famous bell bottom denims. Yup, the DI scared the bejeezus out of Joe.

Joe nearly crapped his pants when the DI told them what was coming.

"Hey, you bunch of pansies. Raise your hands if you've never been swimming."

Joe was tempted, but deep down he knew their lot was going to be worse.
About six hands went up.

"Well, for starters, you six can sit here and watch what you will be doing next week. Yes, that's right. One week to learn to swim. After that, I want two hundred push-ups from you bunch of candy asses. Now let's see who's ready for the navy. Line up for the swimming test. You're going to jump in the pool in full gear, tread water for fifteen minutes, swim to the side and get out. If you don't drown, then you're worthy to be called a seaman."

Joe knew he'd go to that deep bottom like a piece of lead on the end of a fishing line. He'd already opened his big mouth that he could swim. To be "fair," the DI was going to call the names at random . It seemed like Joe's luck still wasn't very good.
"Thames, Joe, in the pool, now. Hup to it boy!" The DI snarled out the words.
There were two diving boards. One a regular height and one way up in the air. Joe knew which one he was going to jump off. No contest there.

"Yessuh!" He saluted and walked toward the diving boards. As he climbed up the low one, the DI started cursing him out.

"You pussy! Get your scared ass up on that high dive. What do you think this is, a fucking tea party?"

"No suh," Joe replied, afraid that anything he said or did would get him more time of treading water. He backed down the ladder and almost fell. Everyone laughed.
"Notice we have a girl with us, Miss Thames the klutz."

Joe felt his face reddening. He was starting to get mad, which wasn't good, since his breathing sped up and his heart rate boomed in his ears, both from fear and anger. He'd have a hard time staying afloat.

Joe was climbing the high dive. Damn, this fucker was far up in the air. That mother of a pool was looking smaller. Shit.

Joe walked out to the end and froze. He couldn't do it. Shit, man. Joe knew he'd go straight to the deep bottom and never surface. He was sweating. His mouth was as dry as gum baked flat in the heat on the pavement. He couldn't swallow. Joe started feeling faint. He didn't know how long he stood there, but soon he heard the DI coming up the ladder screaming at him.

"You yellow-bellied piece of shit, I'm fixing to kick your ass into that goddamn pool. Boy, I better not make it up there and your scrawny ass is still standing there."

Joe knew being pushed off of that board was worse than jumping, so he held his nose and leapt into the water.

The weight of the gear sucked him down to the bottom like a drain had been opened and he was heading down into the depths of hell. Joe couldn't hold his breath that long. He figured out how to kick off the bottom to propel himself to the top, a slow go with all the added weight and the added resistance of the clothes. By the time he surfaced, Joe had taken in a mouthful of water and broke the surface coughing. He flailed his arms and legs to tread water but the coughing took him back under. He'd managed to get a breath, but not a big one. Joe kicked and flailed for all he was worth to bring his head out of the water and keep it there.

Another recruit had jumped in and almost hit Joe. He barely moved out of the way. God it was hard. By a miracle, he managed to swim further up into the pool to keep some asshole from jumping on him. The jumping produced waves that broke into his mouth. He even had to hold his breath some with his head above the water. Joe figured he'd been in for fifteen minutes and started trying to swim to the side to crawl out when they took a pole and pushed him back toward the center. The DI had older recruits who had passed this test helping him. The poles, designed to save people, were going to drown Joe. It seemed like a lifetime of agony before they motioned for him to come to the side and climb out. He was exhausted. His lips were blue from lack of oxygen. He noticed the DI wrote something down when he came out of the pool. Turns out, they decided Joe was not seaworthy and he never had to go on a ship the whole four years that he was in the Navy. Suited Joe just fine.

Then, as if that weren't enough, they had to hike while weighted down further with squishy wet clothes and shoes. Damn, what had he done?

"Fall out for five then line up again. Here comes the fun part."

Joe felt nauseated. What could be worse than what he'd just been through?

The DI started calling names again, but this time in alphabetical order.

Next they lined up for their shots. Don't let anyone say that those guns without needles don't hurt. That's some bullshit. If the recruit stayed still, his arm wouldn't bleed. But if he flinched, it ripped a damn hole in his arm. Joe saw that happen to the guy in front of him, so he concentrated on being still.

Finally, the day was over and the men went back to the barracks. A large, muscular guy with named Jabo came over to Joe and pushed him. He tried to start a fight.
"Hey, pretty boy, where's your mama?"

Apparently, Jabo figured since Joe had had such a hard time at the swimming pool and since he was thin, he would be an easy mark. But that ole country boy had grown up fighting. Chopping wood and cotton made his shoulders and arms strong. Joe hauled off and hooked Jabo right across the mouth. It earned Joe respect and a night in the brig. Not a good thing. But after that, the DI never called him a pussy again. A bastard, a motherfucker, and many other names, but never a pussy again.

Compared to screwing two women, never sleeping, and working manual labor, boot camp was a picnic for him most of the time. All the outdoor stuff was easy for him. His pawpaw had been a Cherokee Indian and he grew up learning how to survive off of the land. Even with the one bathroom, shitting and pissing in the woods was no big deal to him. The city boys were funny, especially when they didn't have toilet paper. Joe had to show them how to use leaves. When push came to pulling, Joe was the champ on the survival part of boot camp. He and the DI became buddies after all was said and done. He discovered Joe was a hard worker, could keep his clothes ironed and neat—thanks to helping his mama—and he was fearless. At least he wanted everyone to think he was.