Oak Knoll and Tim

Oak Knoll Naval Hospital spread out over 167 acres, with mainly one-story barracks-type buildings. Its purpose was for treating American military personnel who had been wounded in the Pacific theater of World War II, but it also later served for the Korean and Vietnam wars. In 1965 a large multi-storied main hospital was begun and opened in 1968. The base closed in 1996.

The WAVES barracks was a two-story structure, situated into a hillside with plenty of outside steps to navigate. Again, we Masters-at-Arms were “ship’s crew” and the Waves we supervised were “ship’s company.” These girls were in the Hospital Corps and went to work every day in the hospital, in shifts, of course. My duties were about the same as at the downtown barracks, but now we had unscheduled visitors right inside our office. We had two rooms, the second one serving for consultations and counseling, with a few easy chairs in it, a table and a lamp, plus a window. I must say little counseling was required, for Waves were generally a level-headed group, with both feet on the ground. But it was at this base that I actually had to take a “prisoner-at-large,” which you’ll hear about later.

Ship’s Company of Waves ate their meals in their own dining room. We Ship’s Crew ate our meals with the men’s Ship’s Crew. There’s one plus for being Crew instead of Company. We were a smaller group and that was another plus. Sailors were good conversationalists. As we walked to the dining hall, always two or three of us together, we had to pass some of the hospital units. Through the open windows we daily heard from patients lying in their beds, “Hup, two, three, four─your left, right, left─left, right, left.” We stayed in step with the cadence for it would have been silly and insulting not to do so. We were, of course, most of the time, in our favorite navy blue dress uniforms. But we got the attention even in our seersucker dresses.

One afternoon a career Navy man, about 40 years old, showed up in our office. He was a patient who had got into occupational therapy in a big way. He did macramé from used parachutes and came over to teach it to us. All of us staff personnel learned it, but it never really appealed to me. I never made anything in that craft except whatever I made in those few days he dropped in. Joe, I think we called him, kept referring to me as “nice people.” I never knew what he meant by that, for we were all nice girls. Anyway, one day he arrived with another patient, Tim, Petty Officer, First Class, to introduce to me, as I later learned. Tim got to showing up every day when I had the duty. We knew not to ask how a man got wounded in the war, but if a guy talked about it, we listened. I never met one who talked about it. It was too fresh, I suppose. Since Tim was not supposed to leave the base at this point, we had our dates while sitting outside on the concrete steps and walking about the compound. At night he was in the hospital. Finally he was about well enough to go back to sea and would be leaving the base soon to do so. He asked me to go to dinner with him in San Francisco before that time. Anyone who knows San Francisco is well acquainted with fog and I warned Tim my hair would get straight on the other side of the bay, but he said he didn’t mind. But I did! Nevertheless, we went by cab, with my curls holding up through that, and to an elegant restaurant, where I ate my very first caviar. After we had ordered, he looked at my hair and said, “It did, didn’t it?” I felt terrible, but at least, it was blonde and perhaps not so noticeable across the room. Girls, this was before hair spray and I have very fine hair. It must have been time for a new perm, but I’d been too busy to get one and had no idea he was going to ask me to go into that murky fog. After dining on a wonderful meal, we took a boat ride and I still got in by curfew at midnight. A few days later, he called me to ask if I would come to see him off. I did, a walk of a few blocks, I’d guess. The bus was already loaded with the sailors’ duffle bags, and it seemed to be waiting for Tim’s girl to show up to say goodbye. Several sailors watched me as I came in sight and walked still farther to meet Tim. I wondered what Tim might have told them about me, for they were all eyes. I had the feeling he told them I was “nice people.” But it was a definite goodbye. I knew he was not for me.

A curious aspect of this acquaintance was that Tim hoped one day to be a police detective in Los Angeles and here I am writing fiction about such things. Another curious aspect is that the way I met Tim was similar to the way I met the man I eventually married, and they had much in common.

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