USS MULLINNIX DD-944
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Rhodes Greece 1959
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Excerpt from "The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944"
A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood
1959 Mullinnix Rhodes, Greece Vistor's Guide (PDF)
The Old City of Rhodes with a population of 6,000 inhabitants is surrounded by medieval walls with seven gates: Gate of the Naval Station, Gate of Agios Ioannis, Gate of Agia Ekaterini, Gate of the Apostle Paul, Gate of Amboise, Gate of Agios Athanassios and the Gate of the port.
To enter any of these gates is to enter another world, a world of shops, bars, restaurants, bars, cafes, bars, museums, and more bars, more like a Turkish bazaar than a Greek city. But any sailor with imagination couldn't help but be touched by the history of the place where a handful of Knights were the last Christian holdouts in a part of the world that had become completely dominated by Muslims. When the city finally did fall after a siege that exhausted both defenders and besiegers the remaining Knights were offered safe passage and on 1 January 1523 left Rhodes along with 5000 of the Christian inhabitants of the island who chose to leave rather than live under the Sultan. In the defense of the city, 2000 Christians died. The Turks lost 50,000 trying to take it.
Rhodes abounds with old and famous restaurants, like Dinoris and the Melathron, serving the best in Greek fair. Rhodes is also famous for its nightlife. More than famous, it was notorious. In that notoriety there is good news and bad news. The bad news, Rhodes is not what it used to be, just ask the sailors from the Korean War era. The good news is that it is probably better than anywhere the Mullinnix had been lately. There were still a ton of bars in Rhodes.
The bar "1950's" for example, played great music from the '50s! It was on a small pedestrian street right off Alex Diakou street, a block from Sof. Venizelou Street. Rhodes was a hip city with an ever-changing list of popular pubs, strip clubs and a whole street full of bars called Orfanidi Street, also known as Bar Street, which started at Psarapoula Square on the west coast at the beginning of '28th of October' street, and ended on Nikiforos Mandalara street.
A spectacular place 'they' happened upon was the Blue Lagoon bar which featured a pirate ship in a swimming pool. 'They' being, Fire Controlman John "True" Trumble and Philip "Budro" McKensie, BM2 John Berryman, and QM2 Bart "Hick'ry" Markley.
"Call me a fuckin' taxi, I’m drunk!" yelled Markley.
"Fuck off! Your always drunk Hick'ry!" quipped Berryman.
"Leave him the hell alone Berryman," offered McKensie. "He's been drinkin' since noon."
Added Trumble, "We all have. But Markley, crazy fucker that he is, has been mixing the local beer with shots of Ouzo. Everybody knows you drink one or the other, not both."
"He's been spending money like a drunken sailor! Oh shit, that’s what he is," laughed Berryman.
Coasters advertising the local varieties of Ouzo, dotted the bar. They sat, virtually alone, on the black-and-white checkered central terrace before the verandah of the old hotel. Most everyone else was out by the pool. A throwback from the earlier influence of a bygone empire. Sunlight laid patterns over the stone floor.
Budro, blurry eyed, pointed to the ceiling, "Hey guys, look at this shit." Their eyes floated to the beams above. Collectively, they wondered if the roach would fall like a bullet into the vacuum of their conversation. They next time they looked he had gone. The table held a nearly empty bottle of Ouzo and a glass that had left rings on the surface.
Splash! Then a scream. Then, yelling - a lot of yelling. Running to the source of the noise and the pool. "Markley, you crazy fucker," yelled Trumble at the naked drunk-out-of-his-mind sailor. "What do you think you're fuckin' doing?"
Markley was beyond comprehension. The Ouzo had taken over his hearing, brain, and actions. That was pure 100% grade-A Ouzo in the pool. It just happened to be in the form of one QM2 Bart "Hick'ry" Markley from Hickory, Tennessee. He’d just dove from the pirate ship, naked, screaming at the top of his lungs, "I want some pussy!"
"He's going to fuckin' drown if we don't get him out of there!" yelled Berryman.
Always the consummate buddy, "Let the stupid-fuck drown," laughed Budro. "He deserves it."
Women screamed. Children cried. Waiters, running, spilled trays of drinks. Markley was dog-paddling / half-drowning towards any women that couldn't swim faster than him. Whites of his eyes threaded with tiny veins that looked like a section of map with only two lane state highways. He was fucked-up. More to the point, he was fucked. He looked like he'd be chain-drug behind a speed boat. Every time he'd get piss-drunk his brain cells zoom to genius, or so he thought. But this was one of his craziest stunts.
Budro had tears streaming down his face he was laughing so hard. "Fuck, my face hurts! Tell'em to stop!"
The pool was emptying fast, like rats abandoning a sinking garbage barge. Markley went under the surface temporarily. Bobbing back up, screaming incoherently, "fuck" every third gurgle. People were running. Old ladies white faced, old men red faced. Markley still drinking copious quantities of chlorine-water. Pandemonium prevailed. Not for long. What appeared to be the management contingent was heading towards the three uniformed sailors, and fast.
"Here comes the maggot-patrol," said Berryman.
"Let's shag ass," Budro offered.
"Not without Markley," challenged True.
"You paying for the drunken sailor?" Mr. Suit asked.
"Yep, he's working undercover as a frogman!" laughed Berryman.
Ignoring the man, but realizing they needed to move fast to beat the shore patrol, the trio hauled a naked Markley out of the pool.
"What were you thinking?" asked True.
"I wanted my head to be at the center of a thigh-sandwich," slurred Markley.
"I ought to kick your ass around the block for drill," said Berryman.
"Grab his uniform Budro, let's get this candy ass back to the ship," added True.
To be continued...
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