Decker's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned to Hack. “And nice to meet you.”
    The commander turned his head towards the sailors and put his arm around his wife’s waist, signaling it was time to go. “You guys stay out of trouble tonight. We don’t need another accident to hit the department.”
    â€œWe always try to,” said Decker.
    The commander laughed, and Decker and Hack watched the supply officer and his wife walk up the gangway to the quarterdeck. Piper’s yellow sundress showing off her long, tanned legs.
    Decker grabbed Hack by the shirtsleeve, nudging him to start moving. “Don’t look at that. It’s the boss’s wife.”
    The walk to the main gate at the north end of the base cut through the heart of Subic Bay Naval Station. A slice of Americana in the Far East. Palm-tree-lined streets with softball fields, a Baskin Robbins, bookstore, and taxi stand. Moderate traffic with people walking—mostly sailors—heading to town on liberty. And Filipino workers heading home after the workweek.
    Twenty minutes later, the sailors stopped at the entrance to the main gate complex, a two-lane street and a sidewalk that passed over a small river on the Philippine side. A security checkpoint stood on the base side in the middle of the road, with Marine guards inspecting every vehicle that entered or exited. A similar checkpoint blocked the sidewalk, causing a bottleneck of foot traffic. The sailors decided to wait for the line to thin.
    â€œWhere are we going?” asked Hack.
    â€œTo California Jam,” said Decker. “As soon as we make it through the crowd.”
    â€œI’ve never been there.”
    â€œYou’re missing out. Cal Jam’s the best club on Magsaysay Drive. And I know the owner, Pong Dango, so I get free beer sometimes.”
    â€œI knew there had to be a reason.”
    â€œI go for the music,” Decker said. “But the free beer helps.”
    â€œHow do you know the owner?”
    â€œHe was my landlord when I rented a place in Olongapo for a few months. Good old man. Nightclub owner, man about town, and an avid collector of WWII memorabilia. I paid my rent on time, and he took care of me. He even lets me in the bar when it’s closed.”
    â€œSo, you do know a Pong,” Hack mused.
    â€œYou doubted me?”
    â€œA little. I still think it’s a funny nickname.”
    â€œAnd here comes another example.”
    Hack saw a man in khakis pass. “Senior Chief Wall?”
    â€œSenior Chief Dingding,” whispered Decker. “It’s the Tagalog word for ‘wall’.”
    â€œThat’s his nickname?”
    â€œIn a way. That’s what the Filipino sailors have started calling him. They find it amusing that some American names sound like everyday words. Wright, Carr, Hart, House, Byrd.”
    â€œWoods, Day, Field, Dahl,” Hack added.
    â€œExactly,” Decker agreed.
    â€œWhat’s he think of the nickname?”
    â€œHe doesn’t,” Decker said. “No one says it to his face. Everyone does it the proper way and only calls him Dingding behind his back.” He nodded towards the dwindling crowd making their way off base. “Let’s go.”
    The sailors passed through the checkpoint with a grunt from the Marine and exited the main gate onto the Shit River Bridge. The “river” was, in fact, a drainage canal that skirted the southern edge of town, separating the naval base from Olongapo. Sailors gave the canal its epithet decades ago from the water’s raw-sewage smell. The name stuck. Decker and Hack were half way across the bridge when Decker spotted a crowd of sailors throwing coins in the water. “Damn.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    Decker pointed towards the canal. “They’re throwing coins in the river. It’s disgusting. Making those kids dive in that filth to fish them out.”
    Hack watched a gaggle of grade-school-aged boys swimming in