More of the Story

My position at the Wave barracks required being a blend of house mother for a sorority or in a dorm, fire warden, sleuth, and confidant and counselor. Duties included sorting my building’s mail, to be picked up when the Navy buses returned the girls; receiving and dispensing notices from the main building; posting the order for Uniform of the Day (determined by weather); checking the cubicles on the day shift to ascertain residents left all areas neat with no personal possessions in sight; making routine walks through the entire Building 1 to check for fire (every hour on the night shift); reporting any signs of lesbianism (never came across any); reporting every girl “in” by curfew to the main building; accompanying (with a clipboard) any officer who arrived to do a surprise inspection, as well as announced ones; checking out girls going on liberty and checking them in when they returned; checking out library books but I never checked one out, a good thing (more about that later); keeping awake on the night shift; supervising fire drills; and making sure girls stayed “in uniform.” The latter meant buttons were buttoned, no extra belt added, ties tied correctly, etc. No problem in that respect. The girls liked their uniforms too well to mess them up by breaking the rules. One important task was checking out girls who were being discharged from the Navy and heading home. Our little “base” was getting smaller and smaller. I must have forgotten a dozen more duties, for I stayed busy.

On weekends, we three Masters-at-Arms had a change in schedule. Two of us did all the duties with twelve-hour shifts, while one had the whole weekend free. So, every three weeks I had weekend liberty. I did my shopping, went sightseeing, and found a church of my denomination. It was a small church, not big like St. Pat’s in New York, but it was a small town, not big like New York. I rode a bus to get there, but never rode a bus back to barracks, at least alone. The people at that church were so friendly, they invited me to their house for Sunday dinner, after which they brought me home. Sometimes I stayed with them all afternoon and someone brought me home after evening service. One sailor attended that church, and so long as we were only one Navy man and only one Navy woman in the congregation, we naturally gravitated toward each other. He was a nice young man and we ended up sitting together in church whenever I had weekend liberty. Sailors didn’t have cars in those days, or even now, I suppose, and Bob brought me home by bus, right to the gate in the fence around the barracks’ compound, with a guard on duty. I don’t remember Bob’s last name.

When I had the night shift, I first picked up from the main building a boxed meal for the middle of the night. This was always a meat sandwich, chips and fresh fruit. It seems it also contained a carton of milk, but I don’t recall a refrigerator in our building. The fire check walk-through, with a flashlight in my hand, and making sure my girls were all safely tucked in, was the main real duty at night. Staying awake in the office took real effort. I had three remedies: eating the boxed goodies, embroidering, and talking on the telephone with a guy who was trying to stay awake at another naval post. These worked. We had a radio but that could put me to sleep.

Shortly before Christmas, Sears in Nashville sent me a generous supply of “play money” that I could use at any Sears store. I bought presents for all my family and mailed them home.

The Oakland Wave Barracks finally closed for good and I transferred to Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in Oakland, where a Country Club and golf course formerly existed, but which closed during the Great Depression. I was about to begin the most exciting stretch of my naval experience.

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