The Recipient's Son by Stephen Phillips

Author:Stephen Phillips [Stephen Phillips]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612511696
Publisher: Naval Institute Press

Heading for the next come-around with Washington, Durago felt very different. He was well prepared and focused to perform. Rather than a chore, he now approached his Plebedom as if he were training for the Olympics. Washington was his new personal trainer.

“Ready, Durago?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oath.”

“Sir, I, Midshipman Fourth Class Donald R. Durago, having been appointed a midshipman in the United States Navy, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and will bear true faith and allegiance to the same. I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter, so help me God.”

“Perfect. So, you’ve probably figured out my priorities,” Washington said. “Daily rates are fine, but I emphasize professional material. And not just the pro book material; you’re gonna need to prove to me that you’ve absorbed all of the other pro knowledge, like the Code of Conduct.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“What are the general orders of a sentry?”

“Sir, the first general order of a sentry is to take charge of his post and all government property in view.’”

“Stop, stop, stop. You’re wrong. It’s got to be right, word for word, just like the Code of Conduct.”

In his peripheral vision, Durago saw Simpson emerge from his room, only two doors down from Washington’s. Durago watched him as he walked by, heading with the rest of the crowd starting to form up for noon meal.

“Durago?” Washington queried.

“Sir?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, sir, I—”

“Responses!”

“Sir, no, sir.”

“If you’d keep your eyes in the boat like you were taught, you wouldn’t be eyeballing Simpson instead of listening to my instructions.” Washington stepped closer and lowered his frame, putting his face right into Durago’s. He started to speak but was interrupted by the five-minute chow call. During the ten-second cacophony, Washington never blinked. Neither did Durago. He could feel sweat dripping into his ears.

“I’m now shoving off, five minutes, sir!” seemed to still be echoing in the passageway when Washington quietly said, “Don’t pay any attention to that guy anymore. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, shove off.”

Durago chopped right for formation. He reminded himself that most of the company had changed positions with the new semester. O’Rourke was now his squad leader, Templeton was now the company sub-commander. A Firstie named Nelson, who Durago did not know much about, was the new company commander.

Once he reached the main passageway on 4-4, Durago noted that most of the company was already there. He found his place in 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad, and stood patiently in the position of parade rest like all of the other Plebes. Washington stood two places to his right.

“Company, atten-hut!” Templeton called out.

Everyone stood rigid and silent as Templeton saluted Nelson. “All present or accounted for, sir.”

“Very well,” Nelson said, returning the salute. “Okay, everybody at ease,” he said nonchalantly.

Plebes were still not able to stand at ease. Durago resumed the position of parade rest.

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