Bergall had one of the finest softball teams in the Atlantic Fleet.3 We all loved the game, and it was natural for us to schedule a beer-ball game when we visited Roosevelt Roads for a brief stop-over. When Ber- gall played softball, it was for real. Even the beer moved aside when someone stepped to the plate. After two games (“One is never enough…”) in the hot Puerto Rican sun, however, we were dusty and tired.
The ship was moored nearby, and we tramped back. Swimming was not allowed off the pier, but we were the only ship in the Roads, and the cool water was so inviting….
First one, then two, then nearly the whole crew “accidentally fell” into the water. I was among them, and the water was wonderful.
Within about five minutes, the officer in charge of the harbor came running down the pier, spouting fire. “Swimming is not allowed! I want to see your Executive Officer, NOW!”
The crew pointed me out, and I sheepishly climbed out of the water. It was obvious that I would not do, and the officer demanded to see the captain. I dried off as best I could and then went below to get our Com- manding Officer, CDR Ray Wyatt.
“Captain, I’m afraid I’ve gotten you in trouble,” I opened. “CDR H
is topside. He’s boiling mad because we were swimming off his pier.”
Captain Wyatt rose, and in what I have ever since considered a stroke of absolute genius, he drew two large cones at our soft-serve ice cream machine. He carried them topside into the hot Puerto Rican sunshine and offered one to the commander who was waiting to read him the riot act.
Have you ever tried to chew someone out when you have to stop every few seconds to lick the ice cream that is threatening to melt all over your hand?
