Syd in Retirement by Drake Koefoed - HTML preview

Syd smiled.  “Prices keep going up, wages keep going down.”

“Well, yeah, an old problem.  What do you suppose the discrepancy might be?”

Syd held up two fingers.  Dave motioned come on.  Syd held up another finger.  Dave motioned again, and Syd held up four.

“What are they going to be missing?  Let me guess, four thousand dollars worth of controlled substances.”

“Maybe five.  I'm not counting.”

“Naughty.”

“I can buy them a truckload of bandages and such, but I need this other stuff, too.  So I get a little bad.”

“How could that even be done?  Would it have something to do with false Ids and like that?”

“Give me a break.  Let me introduce Doctor Sylvia Latham.  Sylvia even has a number to put in the computer so she can operate.”

“You didn't!”

“Doctor Latham did.”

“And if we looked her up in the system?”

“Doctor Sylvia Latham is fairy dust.”

“This sounds like something the Agency for Cats and Dogs might do.”

“Never heard of it.  Doesn't exist.  You're mistaken, Dave.”

“You like pulling shit like this even more than I do.”

“That might be if you were actually here.”

“If I made a few more pancakes, would you want some?”

“If I had been here, I might have.”

Dave made the pancakes.

“There is no way there is going to be a 'just don't worry about it', Dave.”

“We should have our own supply of the stuff, for real.”

“We do, mostly, what I steal from the Navy.”

“Should be some other way to get it.”

“Sure. Tell the taxpayer that a retired admiral wants a little medical grade heroin.  Not just the methadone, which they will give me.”

“Maybe you could do without the heroin.”

“You've been in the house of horrors.  You think I don't know shit about drug addiction?”

“What you know is scary, Syd.”

“You can talk about emergency medicine or you can do it.  I've taken good people back from the edge, Dave.”

“You like edges.”

“F&A right I do.”

“One second more from drowning, one shot from dying from overdose, a few seconds ahead of the torpedo.”

“Right.  Your edges are more vague.  Can we deal with these people?  If this goes bad, can I get out of here?”

“I always knew we had something in common, Syd.”

Dave's phone rang.  He put it on speaker.  It was a coonass, Peter Herbert, which in Louisiana, is pronounced 'hey bear.'  

“Peter, do we never hear from you?”

“Not as often as you should.  I would make a guess, me.  Syd is there.”

“You're batting 1000, Herbert, but you are probably cheating.”

“I cheat when I can, Coon.”  This was a compliment to Dave.  When addressed to someone who is not from the bayou, the name Coon means someone who has been accepted.

“Now you know, Coon, dat de best fish the gulf always after a hurricane.”

Fishing legends are almost random, but it is considered polite to believe in your cousin's.

“That old thing still blowing, ain't it, Herbert?”

“Yesterday's news.  So come meet me at Alimetra Mississippi.  Tonight or tomorrow.  I got the boat and the fishing gear.”

Syd said, “You asking us to fish fresh water?  We're too salty for that shit.”

“Little Syd smoked out.  Dis boat steel, 125 feet.  We doan fish de bayou.”

Dave said, “We might as well go tonight, we could run to the gulf if you know anyone who can drive a boat in the dark.”

“You got the lat and long.  Y'all know how to fly that thing?”

“We'll manage.”

They threw out some stuff they would not need, and loaded some coolers and such.  Dave took the chopper Southeast.  After a couple hours, Syd took over, and Dave took a nap.  Not everyone can sleep while Syd flies.  It takes a certain faith in your own luck, and perhaps some sort of reasoning about her not crashing one yet.

They managed to land in the field next to Peter Herbert's dock, and drag their gear to the boat.  Syd was very up, something that worried Dave more than it might most people.  Syd went up and then she got too far, and she got dangerous.  She might be approaching a mood in which she would think she could hijack a submarine.  She had done it, but you didn't want to be there when it happened.  They headed to the boat, and Peter Herbert took her downriver.

Dave had Syd aft.  “Syd, don't let it go too far.”

“I think I'm OK, Dave.”

“I do, too, but Peter doesn't understand.  This is you and me.  We understand each other.  Peter doesn't.  Let this pass over.”

“I'm fucked up, and nobody sees how it is.”

“Syd, you are a wonderful person, you just have this strange curse.  We'll push it down together.  We've done it before.”

“I feel like I can't hold it in.”

“But you can.  It's just the moment.”

“Yeah, just the moment.”

“It's your secret weapon when you let it fly.  But you just have to let it cool off now.”

“Dave, what would people think if they knew how I am?”

  “What they would think does not matter, and if they really knew, it would be fine.”

They sat on a bench on the stern.  What do you do with a genius soldier who is also psychotic?  The Navy had decided to have her fight, and manage her as it was able.  She had been used, and she had not been bothered by that, but she was still the Navy's, and she was still very dangerous.  Dave loved her as one loves a friend, which only made it more messy.  He might keep her out of trouble, but if she got in it, Dave would take Syd's side.  With the loyalty of a marine.  

Peter, who had left a deckhand at the wheel, came and saw them sitting with Dave's arm around Syd, and her trembling, got completely the wrong conclusion, and silently went back to the wheelhouse.  He thought he was not seen, but that was certainly not the case.  

“Peter.”

“I almost pulled on him.”  

''You are too edgy, Syd.  We're just fishing.”

“We are never just fishing, Dave.  Your hand was on a gun, too.”

“I heard him come out of the wheelhouse.”

“So did I.”

“If people knew what we are like, we wouldn't be out loose.”

“Half the people on the planet wouldn't be.”

Syd got up.  “Long day.”

* * *

In the morning, Peter had the boat tied up very close to a production platform.  Nobody was on it, but in the strange custom of the Louisiana offshore oilfield, if they had been, they would not have thought a thing of it.  Mariners, the world over, are brothers.  The guys on the platforms and rigs are kind of junior members of the fraternity.  To those who would save them in an accident.  In Louisiana, the Coast Guard is not much loved, regarded like traffic cops with speeding tickets to write.  That feeling does not extend to servicemen.  The coonass generally considers the Army or Air Force a respectable profession, the Marines a bit more so, and the Navy a bit more.  Syd would be considered close to God by many people in the bayou country.  When recognized, restaurants would refuse to bill her for a meal.  She pushed $100 bills under the plates and left.  Sometimes, she had someone with a digital camera with her.  She would get a picture taken with the proprietor, and it would go on her web site.  If someone in the fan club got to it, a poster would get sent to the restaurant.  Most of them got autographed.  Restaurants Syd liked would order a DVD of one of the many movies, and find themselves eligible for a discount.

* * *

Dave and Syd came on deck to a small group of coonasses who hung with Peter.  There was no big deal.  Everyone knew who they were, but it didn't much matter.   One of the guys handed out fillets to Syd and Dave.  They watched the fishermen pulling out snappers as they ate.  A deckhand brought poles to Syd and Dave.  “140 feet.  Skip's daughter Harmony has some runners for you.  We figured you guys would go super heavy.”

Syd turned, and saw Harmony on second deck leeward.  She waved.  Harmony waved back.

The deckhand said, “I'll get your live bait in a sec.  General Cale, it's an honor to meet you.”

Dave said, “It's my pleasure.  What's your name, Mac?”

The address Mac really belongs only to marines, but is sometimes used by marines as a complimentary name, as a  coonass will call you bro'.  

“I'm Dennis.  I'm thinking of enlisting in the Corps.”

Dave pointed at Syd by turning his head.  “Join the Navy.  They're smarter than jar heads.”

Dennis went to get their live bait.  Syd said, “That's one of the kind you remember all your life if you lose him.”

“You don't lose many, but I sure as hell have, and you are dead on.”

Dennis came back with a bucket, and Syd grabbed the biggest fish in it, a 14” runner.  She put the front hook under the jaw and out the nose, and the second one through the tail just ahead of the caudal fin.  Dave moved down the deck about 25 feet and rigged up.  As he let down, Dennis asked, “What was it like in the Gulf?”

Dave bounced the bottom, and came up a few feet.  “Hot and dusty.  They treat women like dirt, but an Arab friend can be one hell of a friend.  They are as good and as bad as anyone in the world, different.”

“Would you like some more coffee, General?”

“I would, but just call me Dave.  An inch of milk on top of the strongest you have.”

Dennis was soon back with the coffee.  “I made this special.”

Dave took a drink.  “Carb cleaner.  Right on.”  He looked over at some sound.  Syd had a big one.  Dave said, “Gear up!  Syd has a big fish on!”

He hauled his own gear, and stowed the pole.  The other fishermen knew the drill, and the lines were up.  Peter fired the engines, and Dennis flicked the line off the platform and brought it aboard.  The boat drifted away from the platform.  Dave ran up to the wheelhouse.  “Got a nice one, Peter.”

“I bring you to de place, uh?”

“You did.”

“Dis fish, how big?”

Dave thought for a moment.  “I'll say 450.”

“I got a thousand for 550 to 650.”

“So I got 450 to 550?”

“Right, Coon.”

Dave went down to the deck, and told Syd,  “Peter wants the 550 to 650.  He's putting me in the 450 to 550.”

“I like his bet.  This fish is a back breaker.”

“Shine it?  He wants his fun.  Putting on a grand.”

“Blow his mind.  I'll take 650 plus for two to one.  To ten thousand.  And I will bet a thousand I can boat the fish with just you.”

Dave went up and relayed the bet.

Peter nodded. “I will go two to one on the 650 plus.  But you and Syd boating it alone is pretty silly.  We want this fish.  The crew will boat it if we can.”

“OK,”

An hour later, the fish came up, and got hit by lots of gaff hooks.  The fishermen hauled the massive grouper on board.  Peter waived weighing.  Everyone got his picture taken with Syd and the enormous fish.  Peter went back to the platform, where the boat spent the night, with Peter's friends fishing all night.  Dave fished for a while, but when he did get a big fish, he let it out to a lady who had never caught a real fish.  She took an enormous snapper, and got her picture taken with an Admiral, a General, and a great fish.  The boat ran up the river in the morning, and the Sikorsky took Dave and Syd home.  Some cats were very pleased with the remains of the grouper.  Some of the good stuff arrived at Stuart's ranch at lunch time.  Syd went wherever she went, and Dave went to throw some pots.  He came out at supper time, and ate with some of his crew.  The general rule is, however beloved the boss is, having him around a little is nice, but having him around all the time is not.  Dave spent the evening throwing pots and wondering if he would have an idea for another large work.  The saguaros were getting large.  He had started several more batches of them, but they grow very slowly.  He could use two thousand 4” pots if he cared to throw them.  He had about 80,000 mamms he could pot, but he was going to let the crew do those.  There was no point in production work when the fancy stuff was selling so high.  He wiped his hands, and a little monster called 'bad cat' jumped up on him, growling.

Dave engaged him in some roughhousing.  Bad cat drew some blood, and then ran under one of the benches.

“I guess we understand each other, Bad cat.”

Suddenly, he had an idea.  He went to one of the benches that had a cover for drying clay, and laid out the rough work for a supertanker.  It was as large as he could fire, and a very risky bit to live through bisque.  He worked on it until late at night, and came back in the morning.  As he worked it, it emerged as a battle between seals and rats, the rats armed with AK-47s and the seals with seven silver sub machine guns, and the new SAW chambered for seven silver.  You had to really know your military hardware to tell a seven silver from a .223, but there are differences.  The Seven has a narrower and taller ammo can.  There are some other things like that.

Dave worked on the new piece for about a week, coming down to dry sanding the porcelain.  He bisqued it successfully,  and  Candellaria was more pleased than than bothered by Dave's strange activity.  Dave spent a great deal of time glazing.  

This time, the collectors got their clocks cleaned by a bunch of old retired Navy officers, who bought the piece for the office of the Chief of Naval Operations.  It may be seen today at the office, accurate to the tiniest detail.  Even the brass that litters the deck is made to proportion.  The seas have that perfect realism noticed by the media sailor.  The blood stains in the water, according to people who have seen the real thing, are exactly right.

* * *

Alice and Dave walked the trail of the original A&D Quarry, now a national park.  People were sitting around picnic tables and doing barbecue.  The strange terms of the park allowed people to adopt a small part, and have exclusive use on one day a week.  Many of the spots had fruit trees, watered by pickups with water trailers when it was needed.  

“Dave, do you think about this place much?”

“I dream of it.  But it's all done.  Not ours any more.  Now it belongs to those little kids playing in the lakes.”

A man at a barbecue motioned to them, pointing at the barbecue.  They went over.

“Would you guys like a beer, some pork ribs?”

Alice said “Sure.”  They sat at the table.

“I'm Darryl.  I bought in when they first offered it.  These are my trees.  Not really mine, but I put them in.  

Do you guys come here much?”

“No.  Haven't seen it in years.  I'm Dave.”

“Like the original Dave, yeah?”

“Same name.  This is Alice, if you like coincidence.”

“He put his wife's name first.  Kind of strange.”

Darryl got them some pork ribs, and some Natural Light beer.  “My buddy left some Shiner Bock in the cooler if you would rather.”

“Yes, thanks.”

Darryl switched the beers.  “People are more friendly here than most places.  I mean, Texans are friendly, though.”

“A Texan will stop for you by the side the road before most people, for sure.”

“Dave, it's a good thing we got this place from Mexico.”

“I will agree it's a good thing Mexico does not have Texas.  We govern better.  But I like Mexicans.  My wife is Mexican.”

“She doesn't look it.”

“Alice is not my wife.  An old friend.”

“I don't want to give offense.”

“None meant, none taken.  Would you like a little Cuervo Gold?”

“I would.  One of the best things about having Mexico next door.”

Dave pulled the bottle out of his backpack, and poured them some.

“I just come here alone these days, Dave.”

“Why is that?”

“My kids moved to Chicago and New York, and my wife is dying of cancer.  She just stays at home.”

“That's sad.  I've never been alone, don't think I would like it.”

“You get my age, you don't meet people much.”

“I do, all the time.”

“You in business?”

“Yeah.”  Dave handed him a business card with Dave's cactus and convenience on it.

“Major General David Cale.  Well, I'll be a kitten's grandfather.  So this is Alice Anderson”

“She is.”

“I would like to thank you guys for making this place.”

“No need.  We liked doing it.  Alice has a bunch of quarries.  Married to Tom Hearns.”

“I didn't know that.”

“You can look up a lot on his web site.  We want to walk the whole trail.  Alice made it years ago.  Thank you for the ribs and the company.”

“What do you do with bones?”

“We put them in the barbecue and burn them.  Spread the ashes on the land.  Put them around your trees, maybe.”

Darryl said, “I'll do that myself.  Saves some minerals?”

“Mostly potassium.  Throw it in a sweep up high in the wind, and it will distribute well.”

“I thought you were a Marine officer, but you know about plants, too?”

“I have several hundred thousand in New Mexico.”

“How can you water them all?”

“I have sprinkler systems, and some very good employees.  Come see us.”

Alice and Dave went on the trail.  Alice said, “Look at the water lilies on seven!”

“Wow.  They must have had a lot to start with.  Several acres of them.  I bet you there are some perch in there.”

They passed an area of yellow flowers and big white flowering crab apples.  Not far past, there was a section with cactus.  Dave said, “Those are natives.  Probably someone clearing pasture saved them all.  Look at those pincushions.”

A boy came by.  “My father put them in.  He is Ignacio Hernandez.  I am Freddie.”

Dave responded in Spanish.  Not the Castillion, nor the East LA barrio, but the language of a middle class man of Mexico City.  Alice, who could speak only school book Spanish, was amazed again by Dave's language skills.  He could speak the Spanish of Chile, and in a moment, turn to a border mix of Brazil.  “Freddie, your cacti are beautiful.  Ignacio is a very talented gardener.  We are Alice and Dave.”

“You should come to meet him.”

“We will, if we may.”  Dave had tuned to a south Texas sound, speaking like a diplomat from, say, the Mexican consulate in Houston.  They went up a lovely stair of limestone slabs one often finds in Texas, although these were very carefully selected.  Dave introduced himself and Alice to Ignacio, who was very pleased at their compliments about his cacti.  “Are you the same Alice and Dave who made this place?”

“We are, Sir.”

Ignacio began an exchange where everyone tried to be more complimentary than the other had.  Alice could hardly keep up listening, much less participating.  When that all wound down, Dave gave Ignacio a business card.  Ignacio could help him out a lot by finding sources of cactus seed.  Dave especially wanted pincushion, Devil's pincushion, and some of the native Texas cacti.  Dave's customers could afford them, so there was no need to come in with a low price.  Dave showed Ignacio one that was in the garden.  If this variety was found in a field, it should be shipped to Dave, and it would be well paid for.  Ignacio could dig this one up.  No, he was happy where he was, but if Ignacio could rescue one like him from the hooves of cattle, he could ship it to Dave.  Ignacio did not want to drink around the family, but since they could not see, a little Cuervo would do well.

Alice and Dave went on down the trail.  Alice said, “Dave, we did something good here, didn't we?”

“We did.  A lot of people did more than us, when they had the chance.  People come out and use a barbecue, and leave a pile of wood for the people who have the barbecue.  It takes very little to bring out the best or the worst in people.”

“Why not understand ourselves?”

“We don't want to know.  We don't want to know what we really are.”

“Do you think humans are that bad?”

“We are the best and the worst.  We are the most capable predator to ever walk the planet.  We are the only species that will torture its own, and go out of its way to save a butterfly.  We are the species of Beethoven and Hitler.  We built the Taj Mahal, and Auschwitz.   I, personally, have killed people I didn't know for reasons I was not told, and turned around and given money to charity.  There are guys who have blown villages into a sea of fire with napalm and given to the orphanages.  Syd, who has done some of the most cruel acts of war anyone I know of, will risk her life to rescue a kitten from a tree.”

“Syd isn't cruel.”

“Right.  At the same time you say that, do you think she wouldn't torpedo a passenger liner?”

“I would like to think she would not.”

“She would.”

Alice was silent, knowing that she could not ask the next question.  She did not want to know the answer, and Dave would not tell her anyway.  They walked on the trail and saw some nice stands of trees.  One, near one of the lakes, was circled with willows.  

“People have put a lot into this place.”

“They have their reserved day, and after that, the Park can rent their spot for a few bucks a day.”

“We set it up, and I still can hardly believe how it turned out.  Places like that wildflower garden.”

“They must be out there pulling weeds a lot.”

They went to look at the wildflower garden.  There were a lot of the natives, and some well loved foreign flowers.  They were welcomed by the spot holder, Jessie, who showed them around.  She was a dark Hispanic woman, and had a group of little dark Hispanic girls helping her weed.  They sat on one of the concrete picnic tables A&D had put in on the cheap.  

“General, I had some problems with the mowing, where they cut some flowers.  So that is why I am in native sunflowers over there.”

“Dave to you.  We know there have been lots of problems with mowing.  People think the whole place should be in short mowed grass, but that is not what the contracts say.”

“We worked it all out.”

“It's nice how it all works out here.  I like the vegetables, too.  Some people have objected to them.  But the people who put in plans with squashes on them are being approved.”

“We have a really nice community here.  Even the visitors.  I leave that little shed open so they can use our barbecue tools and all, and it keeps getting full of charcoal and lighter, and lots of times, someone will leave a fishing pole or a garden tool.”

“It isn't the surveillance cameras, it's people's outlook.”

“That's right.  Some people come to visit our spot during the week, and leave money on our account for compost, things like that.  There are a few litterbugs, but we pick up.  The park service fines them, also, and that helps fund the mowing and all.  You guys planned very well.”

They left and went down the lake trail.  All of the lakes had little boats tied up or banked.  Most were left unlocked.  Signs on the docks said “Borrow on weekdays only,”or something like that.  Each boat had a number on it indicating the spot it belonged at.  They came out at the big lake, the only one that did not have level control.  It was a little flood control.  In the event of flood, it would take all it could hold, and then pay it out at a regulated rate.  When it got to the minimum level, outflow would stop.  Alice and Dave left, happy with the way the project had worked out.

 

Chapter 10

Reexaminations

 

 

 

Syd sat in the conference room deep in the secret bowels of the Pentagon.

“General, I have spent thousands of hours on this.  Nobody has ever built a light machine gun with dual belts and barrels, but the cooling is much better, and we can converge at any range we like.  This is not new technology.  We did it with the P-51.”

“You are not a fighter jock.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

General Yates, Chief of the Air Force, got red in the face.  “I am aware, Admiral Silver, of your strange career.  I do not deny that you have flown a few fighters in your day.”

General Brown, the Army Chief,  pushed her curly black hair back.  “I want this weapon.  It's light, it has a good cyclic rate, and you just about cannot jam it. Even with one barrel jammed, the other will still work.  The Army has lost too many men to unreliable rifles.  This is the M-60 with the weight of an M-16, which is a piece of shit I am glad to know I will never carry again.”

The chairman, CNO Larry Jackson, said, “We have to have it for the SEALS.  The whole thing is stainless.  It's  everything we ever wanted.”

The recommendation went up, and Congress eventually approved it.  The piece, which came to be known as the MGS7 in polite company, and a Syd in the ranks, was not happily recognized by terrorists.  Fitted with a scope, it could be effective at 900 yards.  At that range, some MGS7s could fire a one hole two shot group.  The Marines liked it because after a hard day's work humping the boonies, it could still shred a car.

* * *

Syd and Alley Cat were floating peacefully on a lake in Vietnam, with a few days off from shooting a movie.  Their host, Kim Villa, who was the wife of the producer, brought some beer.   Syd was playing at casting lures close to logs and such.  The movie featured a rescue operation to recover MIAs.  Vietnam has many more than the US, but people who still do not accept that the Vietnam war was a tragic mistake also like to believe there is still an issue.  Syd and Alley Cat were willing to make the movie because someone else would have done it anyway.  Syd, having captured the job of Assistant Producer for Stunts without anyone noticing, was paying Vietnamese stuntmen more for one gag than they had expected to make in a lifetime.  The movie featured so many Vietnamese snipers falling out of trees into the river as to tire any but the most durable fan.   Lots of macho American military guys got gigs paying a lot more than they made working for the military.  Corporals played lieutenants for colonels' pay.  The Vietnamese guys made out even better, because Syd would keep revising the script, insisting “We need more gooks in this scene.”  Young Vietnamese, many of whom actually were in the military, ran up and down hills shooting blanks out of AK-47s and looking dangerous.  They might have been dangerous to Vietnamese communism, as it will collapse like the USSR.  Their greatest danger to Syd was that they would keep her up too late asking for photo ops.

On the lake, there was no such danger.  Syd threw one lure or another in deep below the limbs and moss, and real close to the trees and things.  She got some fishes.  The big ones were tough on light tackle, but Syd was pretty good, at least.  Later in the week, filming stopped because of supplies not arriving.  Syd went to sea with some old Vietnamese sailors to look over the scene of the supposed Gulf of Tonkin Incident.  She aggravated some brass, saying she thought it never happened, and could not be any more than a misunderstanding.  She drove some Vietnamese ships, but that came to an end when the masters complained about Syd calling for war emergency power in channels.  This greatly amused the US CNO, who knew what Syd power was.  He shared his amusement with the Director of Engineering at Sikorsky.  The director giggled.  “She turns my turbine 14% over speed, and if she knew how to rev it more, she would.”

Despite this general knowledge, when the supplies came to resume filming, so did an American destroyer, which was more or less made to look like the ones in the famous incident.  Due to someone's slip of the pen, it was put in command of the senior American naval officer.  Syd, taking command, hauled ass all over the Gulf.  She stood it up on its stern, and almost rolled it over in a vicious hard turn.  Eventually, the film crew got what it needed, and they also got some footage that could not be duplicated.  Nobody had ever driven a ship that size like that, and if the Navy had anything to say about it, they never would again.  That would not be the case.  Two years later, Syd would flip a battleship over on purpose, but they didn't need to know that.  

The movie was concluded successfully.  It sold very well.  The crew was happy with the 'how the movie was made'