Mark Arbour
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The Barracuda was standing out to sea, about 50 miles off Ushant by their last reckoning. In the strange, fickle way of the Atlantic Ocean, the sea had moderated so it was rough, but not uncomfortable. Granger strode onto the quarterdeck and touched his hat to the Master, Mr. Buckle, relieving him. “Anything to report?” Granger asked. “No. Sky's overcast so can't see the stars. Dark as hell out there,” he said casually. Granger had developed his own routine for taking
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September 5, 1944 God, I hurt so bad, so bad, but I have to write in this diary. If I don’t, I’ll go crazy. I’ll probably go crazy anyway. If I go crazy will they send me home? It may be worth it, even if I have to spend some time in the loony bin. I’m lying here in a hospital in Paris, with my leg all fucked up, but that’s not the real painful part. The real painful part is the emotional part. Eli was killed. Even though I was his Lieutenant, we’d managed to overcome that and
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October 18, 1943 2nd Lieutenant Steven Schluter, USA, reporting for duty here in my diary. I’m home on leave for just a couple of days, then I have to catch a train to New York where I’m shipping out. Looks like it’s Europe for me. I didn’t bring this diary with me to OCS, what we call Officer Candidate School, and I’m kind of glad I didn’t. I feel like my whole body has been honed. It’s like they spent 17 weeks trying to get me in the best shape of my life while stuff
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October 15, 1942 I got a letter from Aaron today! I’ve read it and re-read it a million times, even though it’s only a page long. It’s so good to have some contact with him, to know that he’s alright and he’s doing well. He says they’re working his ass off, and that they didn’t let him write home for the first month because they’re trying to ‘break them down’. He says it’s all part of this whole Marine Corps indoctrination, where they tear you completely down as a civilian, then re
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September 23, 1942 I just got back from visiting my grandparents and I had to write all this down before I forget it. During our fight I guess I banged Jim up more than I thought, enough to break his nose, and he finally told Uncle Jack that I was the one who did it. According to my mother, Uncle Jack then called my grandfather and bitched about me, and then my grandfather called my mom, who bitched about Jim. The end result of all this bitching was this big meeting at my grandparen
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July 10, 1999 “I am sorry to cut our trip short,” I told them as we drove to the airport. We were all packed and ready at the agreed upon time, which was pretty impressive for six gay guys. “That’s alright, this is much more interesting,” Matt said. It was Wade and Matt who were losing out on this deal. They were being cheated out of a week in Paris. “I will make it up to you,” I said. “Good. I can think of a way,” Matt flirted.
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November 1, 1943 I’m writing this while I’m at sea, aboard the RMS Queen Mary. It’s just me and about 15,000 other guys, almost all of them Canadians. This sailing was reserved for the Royal Canadian Air Force, but they found a few berths for us newly minted 2nd Lieutenants. I made friends with a guy called Tony Bonarino. He’s pretty funny: he’s a New Yorker, from an Italian family. His accent busts me up. Tony says that since we’re the ones that lead the men, and we’re up front
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April 18, 1943 As usual, it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve written in here, but this has been a really busy week, and my brain is all messed up so I figured I’d come back to this diary and lay things out. It kind of helps me keep perspective. When I go back and read what I wrote, things seem clearer. I went to a party on Friday night with all the guys. It was at Seamus Boyle’s house again. The weather was nice, spring is definitely here, and their house is on a b
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July 6, 1999 I turned the page to start reading more, but here there were even more marks on this page. “There are more teardrops here,” I said, my voice cracking. “Brace yourselves.” They looked at me, JP, Brad, and Robbie, with somber expressions. This was agony, seeing the physical evidence of such emotional pain. As I looked at the three of them, I could tell they felt it too. None of us were strangers to heartache. September 8, 1942 He’s gone. He’
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July 5, 1999 We’d taken a break after that first exhausting round and enjoyed beautiful Bermuda. The staff had made us a wonderful dinner, and now we were all sitting around the table having an after-dinner drink. I was a little nervous about going on, based on what we’d already read. JP was acting like none of this was bothering him, which meant that it was. But Brad was looking at me intently, and so were the others. I looked at JP and got the slightest nod from him, and pr
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July 5, 1999 “Good morning,” I said to JP as he brought me a cup of tea on the veranda. “What do you have planned for today?” “I have no plans for today,” he said casually. I raised an eyebrow at that, at Mr. Organized being so open ended, and got a dirty look for my non-verbal sarcasm. “Are you planning to read the rest of the diary?” He seemed nervous. “I am,” I responded. “You are nervous. Why?” “No reason,” he lied. I was g
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July 6, 1941 The festival ended this afternoon, and I can't say I was sad about that. I'd hung around with some of the guys in the early part of the afternoon, but it got too fucking hot so it was time to fade. The only reason I went in the first place was to see if Aaron would be there, but he was nowhere to be found. I was probably trying too hard. If he didn't want to be my friend, I couldn't force him. But the thought of losing him forever, of cutting off a friendship that had b
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August 28, 1942 “Did you have a nice birthday?” I asked Aaron as I gazed down at him. His cum was splattered all over his chest, forced from his body by the animalistic fuck I’d just given him. “Yeah, I did,” he said, grinning back at me. “So far.” I pulled out of him and moved my mouth down to his dick, sucking the last drops of cum out of it, then moved up his abdomen, licking up his essence as I went until I got to his mouth. I kissed him so he could taste himself. W
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July 6, 1999 “Wow. I think I’d be pretty pissed off if someone bombed us,” Brad said philosophically. “There’s a revelation. You are not noted for your restraint,” JP teased in his deadpan way. Brad glared at him while I just smiled. “Some people are better at repressing their emotions,” he shot back. JP just looked at him blankly, perfectly repressing his emotions, and that made me laugh. “You told me I was like him when I was a
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July 6, 1999 I was lounging on the deck, enjoying the morning air and my morning tea, waiting impatiently for JP and Brad to get their asses out of bed. I was transfixed on the diary, on this link with my father, even though my obsession made me feel a little guilty. There were a lot of skeletons buried there, and I knew they were causing JP a lot of pain and discomfort. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I knew him so well. I could tell. I thought about stopping, about reading i
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October 15, 1941 What the fuck is wrong with my relatives? The Cramptons are so fucked up it’s a little scary. My uncle Jack is this dominant business type unless my grandfather is around, then he turns into a doormat. My cousin Jim is an asshole. Nothing more to add there. JP’s a cute little kid, but I don’t see how he’s going to turn out normal living up there. And then there’s my aunt. She’s beautiful, a Fifth Avenue Able-Grable, and a slut. So once again, even though I haven’
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July 4, 1999 We kicked back and just relaxed, enjoying the sun and the view. It is somewhat ironic that people like me who have a house in Malibu would feel compelled to come here to a different beach. But this place was different, and sometimes different can be good. “What are we doing for dinner?” Wade asked, appropriately. He was always hungry. “The staff is going to cook some local delicacies for us,” I said. “I am sure they will make you something to ti
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July 4, 1999 “It's strange to be spending the 4th of July outside of the country,” Brad said as we drank our morning tea on the veranda. I'd rented a villa for a week, and it was really quite spectacular. It was right next to the pink sand beach, so all we had to do was walk down a small cliff to go in the water. I stared out at the sea and saw Brad following my eyes. “It does not look like there are many waves,” I told him. He was an avid surfer. “That's coo
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July 3, 1999 “Your brother is kind of cute,” Wade said to Matt after we piled into the limo. “You think so, eh?” Matt asked him, pretending to be jealous. “Yeah. Think he's into guys? Older guys?” Wade asked, playing with him. “I certainly hope so,” I said, jumping in. They all laughed. “Can we finally get out of here so I can read the diary?” “Maybe we should organize it first?” Brad asked. I looked at him, and all the others
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July 2, 1999 “Mr. Schluter,” Mr. Fox said nervously before we took our break. “I was thinking that perhaps the best place to open the box and document its contents would be on the large dining room table.” I thought about the other rooms in the house, and how they were configured, and he was right. It had the largest working area. “That is an excellent idea, Mr. Fox,” I said cheerfully. “Unfortunately, the museum is scheduled to be open until 5:00pm tonight.
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April 1795 The winds had turned foul, forcing them to sail close-hauled all the way back to St. Eustacius, so what should have been a day in transit ended up taking two days. Granger stood on his deck watching the sun climb into the sky as he led his little fleet into the already crowded anchorage. He smiled at the sight of men lining the rails on the ships of war at anchor, staring at Intrepid and her prizes, wondering at the story behind their capture. Even more exciting was the
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March 1795 Granger stood on the deck, trying to decide if Intrepid would clear Antigua on this tack. He knew her so well now, better than any of the lovers he'd had, better than probably he even knew himself. He used his instincts to gauge the various forces acting on her, the most relevant being the southerly wind that pushed her toward the little island just as it pushed her away from it. But Intrepid was a miser when it came to giving up leeway, a better handling ship Granger co
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June, 1795 “Sir,” said a voice next to his ear. “Sir, it's time to wake up.” It was Winkler, risking his wrath. He searched his brain in an attempt to orient himself. It had been four days since they'd docked in Philadelphia, and he'd spent the entire time meeting people, dancing with women, and drinking. Just the thought of drinking made his head hurt. “I'll need a bath,” he said grumpily. “I'm not sure if there's time sir,” Winkler said. “A bat
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March 1795 “Did you enjoy the bath?” his grandfather asked him as they ate breakfast. Was that a glimmer in his eye? “It was fabulous. Thank you so much,” Granger said, trying not to gush too much while still showing his grandfather how much he appreciated his kindness. “I thought it was a strange idea, but now that it's there, I find I use it daily,” he said. Granger thought of Pierce and smiled. He was quite sure his grandfather used it often.
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May, 1795 Granger sat at his dining table eating with Hammond. Normally they'd invite others to join them, but they'd taken their afternoon sights earlier that afternoon, sights which told them they'd be off Cape May in a day, maybe two, so Granger thought it appropriate for them to discuss their arrival. “Sometimes it is difficult to get London to understand the American psyche,” Hammond said. “How is it different from ours?” Granger asked. “It's f
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