USS MULLINNIX DD-944
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Norfolk, Virginia 1960
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Excerpt from "The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944"
A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood
They weren't expected anyone to meet. Mansen, Benson, "Stretch" McDonald, and Bill "Bull" Frasier were smoking, hanging over the life-line by MT52, girl watching. With a number of ships coming home from the Med on this same pier, there were plenty to watch.
"Oh, Oh, look at her," Stretch pointing down and slightly to the right. She was a blowsy red-head, worn and cheap and about as American as a cheese enchilada. Her make-up was so thick she could have been twenty-five or forty-five. Her eyes were the color of her skin, dark and golden. She looked like she was smuggling balloons.
"Look at her friend," added Benson.
"Too old," argued Bull.
Her premature graying hair was scooped back from a prematurely lined face. She wore a red kerchief. Matching lipstick outlined a small mouth that looked dissatisfied and pugnacious - the mouth of a woman who believed the world was against her and had plenty of evidence over the years to prove it. They were both searching the Mullinnix crew with frantic in their eyes.
"I'm in fucking love, added Bull. "Look at that...holy shit..."
She was tall and willowy with a thin white t-shirt. Her nipples looked like .45 slugs. Her hair was dyed so dark it looked like strands of shadow. Dark brown eyes as smooth and cool as refrigerated chocolates.
"Think she's waiting for you Bull?" laughed Mansen.
"Eat shit. I’m just window shopping."
Paul Mansen stiffened. He blinked. Blinked again. Darlene? Her eyes angled up to meet his. She had ice-blue eyes that looked at him with a love he didn't believe existed. Darlene. Jumping he literally slid down the ladder to the main deck.
"Hey, where you going?" yelled Stretch.
He wasn't listening. He headed straight down the gang plank and towards her, eyes drilling holes in her. As Mansen walked closer, he noticed several small things about her - the freckles on her hose, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the curves underneath her sweater. But most important, he noticed a twinkle in her eyes. It let him know that she was sorry, not angry.
He walked straight to her until their faces were inches apart. He put his face next to hers and said into her ear, his voice thick, "I love you. I will never let you leave me now."
Darlene curled into him and said, "I won't." She began to cry. Mansen wiped her tears away and asked her what was wrong.
"Nothing," she said. "I'm just happy." Then she cried harder.
"What?" he said quietly, touching her face.
She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just - to feel something again."
She put her hand on him. He took her shoulder, drawing her closer and kissed her. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry."
Bull said, "I'll be damn."
"What," ask Bensen.
"Look at that. Mansen. Over there with that good looker."
The 3 sailors looked, watched, and for the first time since they'd left for the Med, utterly speechless. Stretch found his voice first. "You figure that's Darlene?"
"Got to be, doesn't it?" offered Bensen. "I'll bet you a hamburger and cold beer from Marty's"
"I'm not taking that bet," said Bull.
One by one their heads turned and watch as Mansen and Darlene walked towards the parking lot. Already missing their friend, knowing it would never be the same. They'd miss their friend and the times they had had.
To be continued...
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