Balmain Times
Tuesday 24
The Navy Board confirmed today that the Captain of the HMS Westralia, lost to fire in April while on a routine supply voyage, has been exonerated by a navel court of enquiry. The enquiry heard how an engine room explosion and fire, claimed the lives of six crew. The Captain...
The boiler-suited figure stumbled towards the companionway. Wreaths of black smoke clutched at the figure as the sound of fire below decks roared like a hungry beast. An explosive shudder convulsed the ship, punching the figure to the blistering metal deck. Short blond hair flared like a match. One hand gripped a gold pendant with claw-like strength. The passageway bucked and heaved, the walls contorting as concussive forces tore at the bulkheads.
Dear Danny,
Dear God! What have I done? You were right, I was wrong. Perhaps the Navy is not for me. Dad said that it would be tough, but I wasn't expecting this! I have to tell you that I spent a good part of the first few days crying in the john! My body is sore (exercise and marching) and my mind numb. And my hair, oh Danny, my hair has been cut to nothing. Old stubble head! I've seen better looking toilet brushes! God, I'm pathetic: snivelling and hiding in the john. The john, the Head! It's the only private place in a woman's navy. I miss you so much. I miss home, casual food, TV where you get to choose the channel, twice a day showers, shampoo, or at least enough hair to raise lather. And Danny boy, I miss you.
I'm sorry it's taken me a week to write, but at night, I'm so tired. My muscles are still mired in the mud and slush of basic field training. Yes, that's right; marching, mud and rain. I'm meant to be in the 'freckin' Navy! I feel bad, too, about the way I left. You know what I'm talking about, honey. It's not that I didn't want to but somehow it didn't seem like the right time. Doing it because I'm going away seemed the wrong reason. It wasn't special enough. I want you to know it's not you, it's me. You are dear, sweet, patient and I love you. We've known each other forever. Perhaps that's it. Sometimes I feel as though you could be the brother I never had. Don't frown, sweet man of mine, I'll make it up to you.
Love, Kate
Dear Danny,
Thank you for your letters. I know I'm neglecting you but there has been so much to learn. I feel great. Physically fit and my bum and thighs have retreated to girlhood! I've discovered an aptitude for computers and communications. Dad will be so pleased. The naval tradition lives on Capt! It may sound funny, Danny, and maybe you won't understand this, but I think I am getting some sense of who I am. Not small town me: being blond, wearing gingham, living next door to you, going to St Anselm's grade school, learning to swim in the river, or living with that great ball of emptiness after Mum died. Here I have a real purpose, a job which is more than being just a female; it's about achieving things that matter, tomorrow and into the future. I have a place here. It may not be pretty as my friend Paula would say, but it matters. My first leave pass beckons and I'm so looking forward to seeing you.
Your loving friend,
Kate
Dear Diary,
I would never have thought it possible, but I'm glad to be back. Home was fine; it was good to see Dad again and the old home town, looking exactly the same. I guess I knew it was over with Danny, even before I went away. It hurts, but not crisis stuff and it gets lighter every day. Got to go, Paula's back. Three bells and all's well.
Dear Diary,
Two and a half days with my head in the Head! My first deep water experience. The irony is just fucking great. Join the navy and find out I don't have sea legs. Paula was sweet to help. Paula and I are messing together on board as well as on the dockside.
Dear Diary,
I made it! I'm a sailor. I'm in! Assigned to a desk job, but one I like and I'm, god damn it, IN! Dad, your daughter's made it. The tradition lives on, Pa. As expected, Paula's been fast-tracked for promotion, including a sea job. I'll miss her. Funny, the thought of not messing with her is a real downer. I didn't realise how much I rely on her, how much I miss her.
Dearest Paula,
Thank you for the scrumptious letters, my sweet, sweet, special Paula. Yes, of course I miss you, truly madly wildly miss you. What do I miss about you? Well, not your mess in the bathroom! I miss the way we sat and shared our thoughts and feelings about what had happened during the day. The way you would look intently at me, those brown eyes of yours patient and kind as I unloaded the frustrations of my day. I miss the hugs and tenderness, the way you made me feel as though I was the most important thing in your life. I miss the physicality of your presence. You made me feel secure. I guess I felt more complete, more whole. Enough or I'll start blushing.
I've finished with David, or rather, he's finished with me. Funny, but I felt guilty about it. I think if I am honest (and with you, my dearest one, I can be honest) it is because I feel as though I used him. I tried to make something happen, hoping to feel something, but even physically my body seemed to be in standby mode. It was never going to work.
And yes, sir, there are plenty of eager sailors attempting a boarding! No shortage of guys hitting on me, but boy, what sort of jocks! Being blonde doesn't help, even in the Navy. Typical effort from Bo'sun yesterday, "Did ya hear about the blonde who thought Ireland's Air Lingus was a sexual act?" Jerk city, the Navy!
