USS MULLINNIX DD-944

Athens, Greece 1961





Excerpt from "The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944"
A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood


For those sailors into history, it didn't get any better than this: Acropolis, the 5th-century B.C. hilltop temple; Acropolis Museum; Parthenon, iconic 5th B.C. Athenian temple; ancient Agora, iconic Greek ruins; National Archaeological Museum; Syntagma Square; Temple of Olympian Zeus, temple completed under Hadrian; Monastiraki shopping markets; Mount Lycabettus; Panathenaic Stadium; Temple of Hephaestus, ancient hilltop place of worship; and Plaka with its shopping, churches, walking, museums, and nightlife.

Mullinnix breakfast could be pretty decent as long as you had been to sea less than 10 days. Breakfast had choices like grits, hash browns, fried eggs (the first thing they run out of), rice, hash, scrambled eggs, pancakes, beans, and several kinds of mystery meat. All the tables were equipped with bottles of ketchup, soy sauce, A-1, chili sauce, Louisiana Red Hot, Tabasco Sauce in the giant industrial size bottle and Texas Pete hot sauce. They gave you a lot of food, but you might not eat it all. They say the best fed members of a Destroyer Group are the sharks.

They both drank their second cup of bitter coffee. It tasted like burnt motor oil.

"I tell you what Smythe," complained McGee, "I don't know how much longer I can drink this shit. Why can't they get us some decent coffee for a change?"

"Stop complaining. Beats that salt water shit the snipes were cooking at sea."

Walking up to their table, "Hey Smythe, McGee, do I have a deal for you?" It was Phil Larkin.

"Good morning Mr. Larkin, what's the word from the bridge?"

"Liberty. That's where the 'deal for you'comes in."

"Yeah right. We ain't looking for any deals today Phil," said McGee.

"No, no, listen. There's one of those travelling European circus and freak shows in town tonight. And I've got tickets. You guys needs to come with me."

"No fucking way," answered McGee. "You crazy?"

"Oh man, come on. It'll be a hoot. I saw some of their posters. They've got Sealo the Seal Boy. And JoJo the Dogfaced Boy. It'll be a fucking blast."

Laughing, "Your nuts Phil," said Smythe, "Absolutely fucking nuts."

"No. Listen. I've got it all planned. We head out early, grab some local chow, find a bar, drink one too many, then head out to see the freaks. What'da say?"

Lighting a smoke, "Why us?" asked McGee.

"Everyone knows you two walk on the crazy side of center. You're the first two I thought of," answered Larkin.

"Besides, back in Georgia I was always attracted to the odd and the curious. Growing up in that little shitie town, I scarcely missed a visiting freak show, like an armless wonder or a bullwhip artist who performed at the local ball park. I paid admission to countless magic, hypnotism, and spook shows, not to mention animal and juggling acts, that played in the school auditorium or the local theater. And I must have attended every carnival or circus that came around. It's in my blood. Come on, it'll be great!"

Shaking his head, "what do you think McGee? Give our shipmate a helping hand tonight?"

"Shit, damn, fuck!" McGee said. Pausing, "only if we get good and drunk first. Deal?"

"Deal!" answered Larkin.

Later. "Liberty call. Liberty call. Liberty for sections two and three. Liberty call," blared over the 1MC.

"Ok, a deal is a deal. Bar first," ordered McGee.

"Deal."

"What time does this thing start Larkin?" asked Smythe.

"I think about 2000 or so."

"Good, that gives us plenty of time to hit mutiple bars," offered McGee.

True to his word, Larkin let Smythe and McGee, with McGee in the lead, drag him to some of Athens' finest: The Rose and Crown, The Galley, The Beach Plum. As they worked their way towards the area where the freak show was set up, it appeared the bar names knew where they were headed. They stopped at The Dog and Duck for just "one more". Then the Flowery Flag Devils for "a quick one". And finally, The Gorilla Club - the head of what they thought might be a gorilla grinned at them from just above the door. By the time they found the freak show, the trio were well oiled.

It was like walking into the state fair's midway on a hot September afternoon. Walking through sawdust and dirt, they witnessed tents, trailers with canvas paintings announcing the likes of "El Hoppo the Living Frog Boy", or "Atasha the Gorilla Girl," who transforms from beauty to beast before your very eyes of frightened spectators. Pitchmen and barkers proclaimed the likes of "Monkey Mermaid," billed as "the greatest Curiosity in the World!"

"I got to see this shit," announced McGee.

They joined the other spectators in a sideshow tent to see "Atasha the Gorilla Girl" standing, apparently, at the rear of a cage. The lights dimmed, the barker when through his introduction as a voice chanted, "Goreelyagoreelyagoreelya, ATASHA, goreelya!" Atasha's features were slowly transformed, with the use of changing color lights, into those of a large gorilla. There was a loud bone-chilling bong and suddenly, the gorilla rushed from the unlocked cage, and lunged toward the crowd, sending spectators screaming from the exit, running over the shipmates.

McGee had tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard. "That was as out of place as a cat in a giraffe's mouth."

"You moron!" said Smythe. "But that w-a-s funny as hell. Did you see Larkin's face? He was eating that shit up."

They all three couldn't stop laughing - it was contagious.

Larkin said, "That was funnier that being perched on a bollard eyeballing a couple bilge rats and flangeheads using crescent hammers to pack monkey shit around a fitting on a handybilly."

All Smythe and McGee could do was laugh even harder. Turns out, Larkin wasn't short on fun at all. Rather, I well kept secret.

There was a funhouse, more freak shows, a main stage, giant marquees, a giant wooden archway, flashing lights and carnival sounds - bells ringing, a few mechanical rides, screams & cries, a sideshow alley, and butter popcorn being sold by a clown. The clown was thin, dressed in a full uniform of oversized striped pants held by suspenders, a blow-tie, white face paint, a shirt decorated with pictures of kittens, and a huge puffy hat. His sidekick was dressed in a puffy shirt with a garish flower pattern splashed violently across it. It wore oversized red shoes, striped pants and white face paint.

"You ever laugh so hard you back cracked?" asked McGee, "Cause I just did."

"When I get back to the ship I'm going to tell anyone and everyone who'll listen that this southern fairytale begins 'Y'all ain'tgonnabelievethisshit....!'" Larkin yelled.

It was a traveling museum full of concessions, rides, shows, games, and refreshments, and freaks at every turn, human oddities - magicians, a fat lady, giants, and sword swallowers, conjoined twins - the result of incomplete separation of a single, fertilized egg. In addition to born, bona fide freaks, the show featured 'made' freaks and 'gaffed' freaks, all scrambled together.

"Where's the fucking beer?" yelled McGee.

The Four-Legged Girl from Greece, The Woman with Two Bodies, Lachesis the Lion-face, Alligator Man, Lamiah the Leopard Girl, The India Rubber Man, Man with the Elastic Eyeballs, The Great Omi, The Zebra Man, and The Man with Three Eyes. McGee was eating this up, having the time of his life. Would he ever admit it?

The show knew in advance the U.S. Navy was in port as the smell of burnt cotton candy filled the air, the happy staccato of shooting galleries with the celebratory clang each time a bullet found its mark, the sweet fumes of frying dough, meats, and onions, and the stirring polyphony of converging music: "Let's Twist Again," on the carousel's calliope concurrent with the penny arcade's player piano spooling out a chorus of "Big Bad John," while, "Please Mr. Postman" emanating from a public address speaker intersects with "I Love How You Love Me" on the countertop radio at Alexopoulos' Butter-bathed Greek-style corn-on-the-cob with olive oil, garlic clove, mint, oregano, basil, Italian parsley, cumin, cinnamon, and sugar.

Across the way from Adalene's Odditorium and the Hindu Temple of Magic, flanked by the Mystery of Life exhibition and a Mediterranean drink stand, where the trio pacified their thirst, stood the proud boldness of Athena Georgiades' Nude Ranch.

At the end of many acts or exhibits the sailors were offered a pitched item such as a "true life" booklet or photograph. Larkin bought a miniature bible from a midget. Smythe bought an autographed photo from "El Hoppo the Living Frog Boy".

The clown had dark clumps of black hair sticking like bristles out of a head as round as a basketball. Its clothes were different too - it wore a plain red shirt that looked like old-fashioned cotton underwear, clinging tightly to its chest and belly, and pants of the same fashion, with a button-up seat. Its face paint, plastic nose and big red shoes were the only things 'lown' about it.

Something cold crept over Smythe's skin. A voice inside told him to run away, very fast, right now. But as that passed he realized the clown's face must be covered in makeup, that’s all - that's why his eyes blazed with that insane light from beneath a lump of bony brow as dark as a thundercloud; that’s why every contour from forehead to jaw was so wolf-like the man would not have looked out of placed howling at the moon; that’s why he was well over seven feet tall, with hands far too large an yellow nails as long as talons. The monster looked down at him from a full foot above.

"Give me money", he said in a deep, threatening voice. "Now!" A smile came to his thick lips which seemed almost kindly, perhaps the way a werewolf smiles at a cub.

Fight or flight. Smythe chose fight out of shear survival instinct. He rushed the man like a maniac, screaming, "Muthuhfuckin muthuhfucker!!!"

The huge man spooked, pushed through the rattling beads in the tent flap, stooping beneath the top of the frame, and was gone. The chill passed.

"Stone cold fucking nuts!" yelled McGee, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Whoa, man. I've got a personal relationship with paranoia. We go way back," added Larkin. "What's wrong with you?"

"You've been working with spray paint too much," said McGee.

"There are three things I've learned to be afraid off. Mother nature, mother-in-laws, and mother-fuckin' seven-foot-tall cocksuckers that try to roll me."

Dozens of shirtless men and chunky women wearing straw hats milled around the barker in a boater hat waving a narrow cane.

"Sealed in a glass coffin without food, water, or oxygen for over two months, owing to her amazing ability to suspend her heartbeat and intake of oxygen. Step inside and see this lovely young thing buried alive, and yet she survives!"

A crowd was forming around him, including a number of children without parents. The barker accelerated the tempo of his pitch.

"See this beautiful young woman who through powers learned in ancient Tibet only requires the amount of air contained in a balloon this size." He blew up a small pink balloon that had the words BURIED ALIVE printed on it.

"Hey, did you see that burly dwarf with an eye patch?" asked Larkin. "Let's go see him next."

"Why don't you go get a lap dance from the breaded lady," answered McGee.

"Just another day at the zoo, boys. Just another day," said Smythe. "Let's go home."

To be continued...

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