In basic training, they called my dad, "the old man" but he came from the country and was not a stranger to hard work so he breezed past many of his 19-year-old counterparts.  Because of his age and experience with heavy equipment, the Navy stationed him at Pearl as a crane operator, loading munitions onto ships as well as handling bulldozers.  Hawaii was a good assignment but the days were long and he was there for Second Pearl Harbor.  It wasn't what you'd call a trip to Disneyland.

I wasn't even an twinkle in his eye at the time but after I was born and old enough to understand, he told me stories about his time there and mentioned his friend, Brownie.  I was just a kid and they were just stories until I found a box of pictures that seemed to bring everything to life.

Brownie was a light-skinned black man which was probably why he'd had the nickname all his life.  He worked in my dad's area and since it was some distance to Brownie's barracks, he began to spend nights in the barracks with my dad and his guys.  Over time, the arrangement became permanent so, with or without orders, Brownie became a fixture in the place.  However, racial tensions began running high so the Navy further segregated blacks and whites to different parts of the base.

When the news came, Brownie approached dad and said, "I don't want to live over there."

So, with little or no discussion, the guys said, "Well, stay here with us then."

After all, even if the military found out, what were they going to do?  Shave their heads and enlist them in the Navy?  That ship, as they say, had already sailed.  So, Brownie stayed with his friends for the duration of the war.  I can only surmise that the military had its hands full with a world war so paid little attention to a group of guys who were working hard to do their duty and not causing any trouble in the process.  At any rate, nobody in dad's command ever said a word about the arrangement.

It wasn't a monumental event and they weren't making any social or political statements.  There were no headlines and I doubt if anybody's left to tell the story now.  They were just ordinary guys working under extraordinary circumstances while never knowing if the bombs were going to drop again at any moment.  Brownie, my dad, Billy, Eldon and the rest may have slipped through history without notice but they knew.   They knew about friendship.  One-on-one friendship.  And I know.

I have a picture that I'm particularly fond of.  It's one solitary shot that says more about the guys who served there than a thousand words.  It was taken at an open pavilion near the barracks complex.  You can see picnic-style tables filled with sailors enjoying some leisure time.  And standing in the middle is a light-skinned black man hungrily turning up a long necked beer bottle.  It must have been hot that day.

The bottle is in the way so I can't tell what Brownie looked like other than he had a prominent nose and wore round, metal-rimmed glasses.  But, he was there.  And they were there.  It was monumental in its simplicity.  It's a picture of a group of work-weary, war-weary guys who decided that in this instance, they'd pick their own damn friends.

I don't know if Brownie is still alive or not.  Probably the latter.  But if he is, I think I'd like to have a beer with him. 

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