The Teen Sitter
James was impressed with how quickly the boat got moving.James smiled.He started to sing.Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down! To me way-aye, blow the man down. Oh, Blow the man down, bullies, blow him right down! Give me some time to blow the man down!As I was a-walking down Paradise Street, To me way-aye, blow the man down. A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet. Give me some time to blow the man down!At one point during the journey, a storm tossed the ship as though it were a child’s toy in a bathtub. The women handled it like old tars. It was James that felt rough; for hours he had his head over a bucket as his stomach emptied its contents into it, continuing long after there was nothing but bile.‘God, why do people sail?’ he wondered.As the weather ramped up, James lifted up from his bucket and heard a shout. He looked at Anne who also frowned and walked over to the door.“Beat to Quarters,” he heard being shouted.“Oh fuck,” James uttered.Anne looked at him.. I shrugged and decided that silence was wiser.We rode through the German countryside for a long while before we finally came to the Autobahn and sped along towards Frankfurt. When I asked why we were going to Frankfurt, dad simply replied that that was where his commander would be. Whether that meant that that was where he was supposedly based out of or that Frankfurt would simply be where his commander would be located on that particular day was not forthcoming. My father had turned taciturn and he spoke very little the whole trip there. I went back to sleep.I woke when I felt the car decelerate and I saw we were getting off the Autobahn in a large city that had to be Frankfurt. Within a few minutes we were at the gates of a U. S. Army compound and driving through the boring architecture of post-WWII military with uniformed soldiers everywhere. Dad followed the signs for the PX and we ate at a little snack bar before we drove to a plain building with obscure acronyms and ordinals on.
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