A World Ago by Dorien Grey

Author:Dorien Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A World Ago A Navy Man’s Letters Home (1954−1956)
ISBN: A_World_Ago
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2013-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

23 December 1955

Two days from Christmas and 3,000 miles from home. But only 283 days more in the Navy. How wonderful it will be to be free again!

Last night was the Division party. I left the ship about five o’clock; it had been raining on and off all day, and the streets were shiny black, reflecting every light in long, wavy strips.

The party was to be held at the “Little Paradise” restaurant, far on the other side of the city, overlooking the Bay of Naples. I decided to take a bus instead of a cab, not only because it would be cheaper but also more fun. After wandering aimlessly about looking for the bus, and with the aid of a non-English speaking policeman (who for some reason was dressed just like a British Bobby) I found the right corner and stood there. My bus was number 240—an electric trolley. After a few minutes, one turned a corner and came my way. I got ready to get on, but it whizzed right by—you’ve got to flag them down, which is quaint but a little inconvenient. The next one that came along I waved at wildly and it stopped. You enter from the rear—that is, if you can. It must have been the rush hour, for every bus was jammed with people, to the very doors. After getting on, you pay the conductor, who sits in a special little booth just behind the door, 35 Lire (4 ½ cents?). And off we went, stopping every block or two as the guidelines to the wires bounced off with a boom and a great flash. The conductor would patiently get off, put the guides back on the lines, get on, and we’d be off. Most of the time he didn’t even have to bother getting off, as there was a transit company employee on almost every corner, evidently for just that purpose.

No matter where you go in Europe, you run into at least one American. On the bus were a woman and her mother, whom I knew immediately was American (you can spot them in any crowd). She looked exactly like thousands of American women on our own busses, going home from a day’s shopping. We exchanged a few words as they squeezed past me on the way to the door. And then they were gone.

The conductor signaled me about a block before we got to the restaurant, but by the time I fought my way to the door (helped by an American man and a friendly Italian who pulled me through by my coat sleeve) it was two blocks past my stop.

By the time I got to the restaurant, everyone was nearing the saturation point, and a couple were past it. We’d rented the whole place for the night, so there was no one else coming and going.

The two chaplains on the ship are leaving for other duty soon, and so both were invited, and a cake, white frosting with green trimming and a green cross in the center, had been made for them.

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