Updates ... Phew, it took me almost two weeks to get this done! Sorry for the delay, but you know me and my darned perfectionism. If its not right, I won't post.

PyroDragon2006 ... And yes, there will be things that affect him. Some more than others and some worse then others. They'll be along soon enough have no fears.

Scarab Dynasty ... Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Well, Sugoroku isn't done yet. he has a few more twists and turns ahead of him...some you may not believe until you actually read it! And as for being in tune with his character... I don't know how I do it. He's just worked his way in to my subconscious I guess. : ) I tend to be an analyzer myself so he and I have that in common, but I use that when I study the situation I put him in and try to 'see' how he might react and there you have it.

Lady Althea ... Yes, Mother Nature definitely has a mind of her own and you don't want to go ticking her off. I'm looking forward to your GX story!

Okay, faithful reviewers, here's my next offering. Hope you all like.

Trixie21

Okay, you all know the drill. I have to take up valuable space and time to say that I do not own any part that is the coolness of the Yu-Gi-Oh universe. That honor goes completely to Kazuki Takahashi. Authoress as she bows subserviently before her shrine of great creators... "We're not worthy! We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"

This Old Man: Sugoroku's Story

Part 2: America

26. Courses of Change…

And so it was that after the Tsunami of April. 1, 1946, after tossing the Pemberton on its already mentioned stomach churning ride, a total of 7 waves belted down on the residents of Hilo on the big island, Hawaii, with unmerciful fury. In all, 159 people were killed and there was caused more than $26 million in damage. The waves completely destroyed Hilo's waterfront and every house on the main street facing Hilo Bay was ripped off its foundation, carried across the street, and smashed against buildings on the other side. These debris-laden waves, up to eight meters high, even caught an unfortunate number of schoolchildren before classes had began and entirely wiped out a hospital.

One could not imagine that there would be any possible positive to this disastrous happening, but it does so happen that this particular set of waves brought attention to these Pacific born monsters and in 1948, the United States responded by setting up the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center in Hawaii. But that is still for the future.

In the here and now of Sugoroku's life, the Pemberton lay still in the waters just a mile off the shore of Hawaii while some minor repairs were being affected. A few railings, here and there, a radio antennae, a few bolts and rivets…nothing that could be considered life threatening. What would take the longest was the clean up. There was some amount of water to be pumped out, though not so much that would have made it a serious situation. But it was a messy and slippery issue all the same and it had to be cleared.

The worst by far however, was the items that somehow had managed to find their way loose from their normal locations. On the average naval vessel, everything that can possibly be bolted down is done so very securely. Chairs, beds, tables…these are anchored to the floors and walls. In the mess hall, the tables are of the type most often found in the average high school, where in the bench seats are already connected to the table. In the radio room, the main component radio was set into a special recess with clips so that it could be removed only if necessary. In the kitchen, the largest appliances, that have no other place to sit and are used too often to necessitate moving, are bolted to the counter tops. Pots, pans and other smaller cooking utilities are stored in cabinets and drawers that are made to lock securely when closed so that only by the most aggressive of pulls or shifting of their door faces could one open them up. In the sleeping quarters, each crew member was given either a stationary standing locker or bolted down foot locker that in all instances was to be kept locked. Any additional ship supplies were kept stacked and locked in such a manner so as to keep these precious items from shifting and breaking open during even the roughest of weather. However, the "roughest of weather" had not exactly included being dropped from 30-40 feet high and at one point 70 feet.

Two fire extinguishers - one of which knocked one man unconscious when it connected with his head - had come free and were found more than a few feet from their correct positions on the walls. Paper from the radio room and bits of magazines clung to the walls of the corridors. There could even be found in very nearly every room at least one tin of some food item. But if the rest of the ship was in a mild state of disarray, the sleeping quarters, both fore and aft, where disaster areas.

Since the offical surrender of the Japanese Empire, the men aboard the Pemberton, and indeed many other ships no longer in dangerous waters, had become a little...lax in their rules regarding the strict need for order and particularly, locked personal storage compartments. Because of the relaxed attitudes taken on by the men and the fact that even certain superiors in the chain of command had done nothing to disuade them, there were consequently opened lockers and trunks, and items only normally found on an enlisted man or in their hands was left free to make their own journeys.

Clothes were strewn about as if someone had taken a hamper and simply shaken it upside down around the room as one might shake a salt shaker. Socks clung to the ropes that laced the mattresses to their frames. Underwear hung from the poles and pipes that made up the bed frames. Tee-shirts, pants and issued shirts littered the floor in a solid carpet and the personal effects of the sailors - their razors, their books, their letters and pictures from home - lay upon the clothes, pieces broken, papers soaked, images smudged and smeared and ripped.

This was the hardest for many of the men to clean up. Not because of the enormity of the job itself, but the poignant reminder, already so strong, that though they were on their way home, they were still so very far away and now, lucky to be able to even continue the journey.

For most of the men cleaning these areas, it was done in silence. This was a silence born not for the loss of any man, but created from the aching of hearts at the lost bits of hope that kept such men as these bold and brave and ever willing to fight the toughest fights. The loss of their precious memories was almost too much for a few, and when the letters from a mother or sweetheart, or the picture of their baby only months old when they left for their duty, was found, these war hardened men could not hold back their tears.

The ink of many of these letters was only half washed away and rather than be completely clean of thought or longing, the words were smeared just enough so as to be unintelligible no matter how hard a man might squint. The idea that the letter was still there but could no longer be read, was harder by far than its absolute disappearance. It was there, but could not be viewed. Just like their families and friends and the girls they thought - hoped! - were still waiting for them.

The complete blankness of a page would have been easier, for it could be thought of as a moving on or completion, or even the idea of a fresh start. The same went for the men's pictures. The loss of one would only serve to bring it forth by memory with so much more clarity, while the ravaged remains of what once was, served only to remind the men that nothing was a guarantee, that though there was finally peace, there was no absolute.

The men of the Pemberton were suddenly tired men. More than a little eager, more than ready to get home, they could not wait to set foot on true American soil and kiss their children, hug their parents and make love to their wives.

Though Sugoroku was still young, he understood and he did not fail to notice the somber tone that took hold. He watched many of the men vainly attempt to air dry their soaked letters by waving them back and forth gently or dab them dry with their own shirts hoping they would become readable once more. Of course such attempts were most ineffective, but no one said anything to the contrary. Especially Sugoroku.

The light of hope within the men so dimmed and no longer definable, touched Sugoroku and in his own way he suffered with them. For the first time since stepping aboard the destroyer, the young man felt a twinge of his own homesickness envelope him and though he still felt that intense need to leave his childhood behind in so dramatic a fashion, he couldn't help but feel that minor touch of melancholy over his decision. No, he did not wish he was back home. But he did still miss seeing some of the things he had grown up with. Including his mother. This revelation, at the same time discovered as he witnessed the futile attempts of the men to salvage their personal mementos, reminded him that he had not as yet kept his word to his mother and written to her.

Sugoroku sighed softly to himself.

'It can wait another few hours,' he thought as he again took in the grim faces of the men with which he traveled.

They needed help right now, in however small a form, and he gave it.

For the next few hours he sorted the clothes that littered the aft sleeping quarters, doing as well as any man there with properly returning the assorted pieces to their rightful owners. Fortunately, most of the men had wisely initialed their attire. The ones that hadn't were left to figure out who's was who's more or less on their own once the unmarked stuff was put into one big pile. It was while he was helping several friends sort and fold their items that Leo sauntered in and grinned.

"Hey, Sugoroku! Check it out pal. They finally got that antennae fixed topside and we got a report from the Harbor."

Sugoroku perked up.

"You'll be happy to know that the most they got were some pretty weird tides, but that's it."

"Then everyone there is safe?'

"Yep. Mark and the others are just fine…," then Leo smirked in amusement, "…as is a certain serviceman's daughter…"

The men beside Sugoroku chuckled as the younger man felt his cheeks warm slightly at the hinted mention of Loni. It wasn't that he'd been worried for her, not really worried anyway, but he had…wondered. It was nice to know though, that at least she and Mark had been sheltered from the ravages of the sea.

Sugoroku nodded then.

"That's good."

"Good to know she'll be there if you go back, huh kid?" asked a man beside him.

Sugoroku looked at the man in annoyance as the others laughed. How many men on board knew about her anyway?

Seeing Sugoroku's expression, a fellow nearby said, "Don't worry Sugoroku. You don't have to answer him. They're just kidding around with ya'."

Sugoroku relaxed considerably at that as he thought back to that evening with Loni. He hadn't really gone into great detail with anyone about something that had only lasted a few seconds and to be honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to with these guys. In his mind, it was for him and him alone to consider and remember.

Just then, a light stab of pain at the back of his wave abused head brought him back to full attention. He reached back and rubbed the resultant bump beneath his black hair tenderly.

Seeing the move, Leo asked, "You okay pal?"

Sugoroku winced.

"Yes. Just sore."

"You should be. You got thrown about enough. First on the decks, then down the ladder… it's a miracle you didn't break something."

Sugoroku gave the rueful reply, "I'm surprised I'm not dead."

"Aw, it ain't that easy to kill a grand ship like this kid," said Squawk as he sat up on a bunk. "She's too tough for that. And since you're on her, it only stands that you wouldn't be that easy to kill off either. No one on ol' Bertie would be."

Sugoroku looked at his friend.

"How did we make it through anyway?"

"I told ya. Berties' too tough. She's got a mind of her own sometimes, but she takes care of her own. Me personally, I never thought for a second that we were in any trouble. Once she makes her mind up to keep going, that's just what she does. She keeps her eyes forward and slams right through and keeps her crew alive and kickin' for the next fight."

Skepticism crossed the young Japanese face.

"You make it sound like the ship is alive."

Squawk looked at Sugoroku in surprise.

"She might as well be. She has a habit of doin' her own thing and there's times when there ain't a thing we can do about it. You know why we call it a 'she' right?"

Sugoroku shook his head.

"Because a good ship is like a good woman. She'll do whatever it takes to see you make it, usually with an easy ride, but she can still be temperamental as hell."

The disbelieving, almost confused look that sat on Sugoroku's face said it all and Squawk sighed, seeing that his statement was completely lost on the younger man's innocence.

"Well, you'll understand someday, " he said.

"Maybe he won't have to wait…at least on part of it," suggested Leo.

Everyone looked at him.

"Hey, Sugoroku...ya' wanna' learn how to steer a Destroyer?"

The smile that touched his face went from ear to ear and Sugoroku nodded vigorously. He may not have understood the woman half of Squawk's thinking…yet, but at least he could get to see the ship side of it.

The steering of a Destroyer is like few other ships in the US Navy. While she is sleek and lithe with all the right curves, she is a creature almost as unpredictable as the seas in which she travels. Particularly when the waves run high or when the sea is running from aft in the same direction as she herself is headed.

When one was attempting to guide the ship in the chosen direction of their course, there were three steering stations from which this could be effected. The first was, most obviously enough, on the bridge where a gyroscope gave the helmsman their true heading for normal operation, and a magnetic compass for emergency situations.

The secondary steering was on a platform half way up the after stack, where there was another wheel and magnetic compass to be used if the bridge was destroyed.

Finally, there was a manual steering station in the "steering engine room" (SER), where, if all else failed, the ship could be "steered" using only manual input. This was decidedly the most difficult area to steer from as it lacked a rudder indicator to show the desired rudder angle or an electronic indicator showing its actual, instantaneous, position.

Most difficult about it, particularly in this position, was the time lag between turning the wheel and having the rudder respond, and a further, much larger, time lag before the ship responded. One could spin the wheel very quickly to the maximum of thirty degrees in only a second or two, but the ship would not fully effect the angle for up to eight to ten seconds. This was only aggravated by the shape of the destroyer itself.

The Fletcher class Destroyer is a very narrow ship at about 376 feet long and only 39 feet wide. From above they show the aspect ratio of a cigar. One might think that, being long and slim, they would like to move in a straight line. This however, was not always the case.

Sugoroku quickly discovered that this 'Lady of the Sea' did indeed have a mind of her own and she often defied reason when he tried to determine why she would regularly wander 5 to 15 degrees off course in only seconds.

To be a good helmsman required very sensitive physical senses and a keen mind. This was because it was in most cases, necessary to predict what she was about to do in the next several seconds and take immediate corrective action when warranted. Once she has begun to slide off course, the rudder cannot be moved quickly enough to avoid wandering, so the helmsman tries, as stated, to second guess the Lady. In trying to bring her back on course, one could easily apply too much rudder, overcompensating, and, due to the side thrust on the rudder, cause the ship to roll.

This easily happened more than once to any helmsman Sugoroku watched, and he could not help but issue a laugh when it happened at mealtime. When the pitch or roll was great enough to disturb even the most weathered of sea men down in the mess-hall, someone would invariably call loudly "Who the Hell is on the wheel?"
Sugoroku did not have chance to steer during the day as it was generally agreed that as indulgent as their captain was, no one thought him lax enough to let a 16 year old boy steer the ship, no matter how well liked the boy was. So Sugoroku's turn, came at night.

The only problem with this arrangement was that on a dark night, when the sea was calm and the bridge was peaceful, steering could be rather…boring. The only thing Sugoroku could see clearly was the gyro repeater showing him his heading. Staring at the gyro repeater was a mesmerizing pastime and he found himself struggling to keep from falling asleep. On his third night standing at the wheel, he had suddenly abruptly awoken, to find that he was way off course. Not wanting to draw attention to it, he did not look around at the other two people half awake with him, but slowly corrected the course and no one else on the bridge noticed. When no one made mention of it later, he could only amusingly presume that he had not been the only one nodding off that evening.
Sugoroku quickly found that to be truly the best at this sometimes tedious job, it was required for a helmsman to have an almost intimate, intuitive, relationship with the vessel. The man steering had to use what ever little bit of information he could garner as they went including the shift of weight on his feet, the sense of balance from his inner ear, his visual reference, the always useful feeling in his various joints, as well as the ever faithful "gut" feelings. Using these aids to the best of their ability, one could, over time, learn how to handle the ship with grace and ease. Well, most of the time.

Sugoroku's short tenure as a night time helmsman would not be long enough for him to become really adroit at it and he had no true natural talent for it, but there were side benefits, most unspoken, to these lessons.

It was very normal for Sugoroku to conduct his daily affairs with clear, studied concentration and he always seemed to know just how to handle the routine of living when there was not great variation to those things that happened. However, as it does with any man, such ease can often bring about a certain contempt for the lesser activities that though mundane must still be followed through with.

What Sugoroku learned through his time at the wheel was that no matter how boring the little things seemed, no matter how easy it might be to just let oneself slip and not put as much all into those simple tasks, it was a far better choice to pay extra attention to the little details that were so easily dismissed, because it was often these little things that, when left unchecked and unconcerned, snowballed into far larger issues and thus threw one off course.

To study him further, one would also have been able to note that as his time at the position increased, his far more less distinct abilities became sharpened and were slowly being honed to a razor sharp edge.

Intuition became a best friend…instinct a partner. He learned to use those subtle queues and hints with the same assurance and confidence as one might have with proven intelligence information printed and sent by naval communiqué. This, coupled with both the decent food his body was finally able to consistently acquire and his regular daily self defense practice, was setting the stage to allow for a surge in growth both physically and mentally, the product of which while far from being a complete metamorphosis, would give him shape to tackle very nearly anything he came across.

His observational skills grew by tenfold. His manner became cool and introspective. When there was a true goal in mind he learned patience in the journey to attain it. The execution of actions necessary became efficient with some things almost to the point of being second nature.

There was a great blending of old and new within him and though it would be some years before he truly possessed mastery over each bit of nuance that inhabited him, the stage was set, the curtains drawn and the world awaited. All that was needed was for him to walk out into the spot light and own it.

But even with all this, there was yet one lesson more to be learned in the last two weeks of his tenure aboard the Pemberton.

xxxxxxxxx

It had been almost two and a half weeks since that last game with Richter and the man in question had not faired well. His reputation tarnished, any respect there had been for him - negative or positive - was broken and there was not a man aboard the ship who did not feel a sense of satisfaction at that turn of events. He could no longer get a single person to play one hand of cards even without a bet.

This lent to Richter becoming morose and silent. Even the two men that he had passed much of his free time with no longer had much to do with him. To be honest, they were a little afraid - and rightly so - of him. So Richter was left to do his job such as it pertained to him but nothing more. He was a loner in a way that even the always recovering gambling addict Vick was not.

Of course Sugoroku had never intended for this to be the total outcome of that last game. His only goal had been to win. But Richter, unable to deal with the lesson of his mistakes and change by way of apology and better action, had willingly locked himself in a prison of purgatory where in his own bitter heart was the warden.

Even in the midst of a mess hall full of other men, Richter was quite alone and as effective as any prison solitary, this chosen loneliness brought about to him a relentless, consuming, daily return to the day that had brought him to this point. And with each passing day he hated it more and more. Anger rose to fever pitch and with hardly a notice or a care, it warped his sense of logic and sense of fairness. Before he knew it, he was fully immersed in a dark world of resentment complete with the need for retribution.

Now of course this did not all occur only as a result of that match. It had already been molded into the fabric of his character, to seek to punish, by years of being the intimidator and easily having his way. He had been the bully and always on top. When this standing position of power had been usurped, he had not known how to deal with it or seek absolution and so had turned inward on himself to fester as he worked on his plans to gain his throne back from the unsuspecting boy.

Sugoroku's triumphant face haunted him by day and moments of 'revenge fulfilled' teased his dreams at night, and when at last the time came to get his payback, he found that the occasion presented itself not with any subtle setting or well executed plan of devious design.

It was nothing more than an accident of opportune time.

Next Chapter: Last Lessons…

R and R's gratefully appreciated: )