BRAT and the Kids of Warriors

by Michael Joseph Lyons

  The note, written in Queenie’s best cursive, did the trick. It also got them introduced to the head of the nursery, Miss Ritter. She handed Queenie her log book where all kids had to be signed in and signed out. Vital intel, since they used the book method to spring Rabbit the next day, too, without bothering with a note. Queenie walked in with her very superior attitude and said to Miss Ritter, “Is Kirsten here?” Then she just signed her out. It worked like a charm.

  That is, until Mrs. McMasters somehow managed to get out of bed and showed up early to get Rabbit. That’s when she learned that Queenie had signed her out an hour and a half earlier. Woops—big trouble for the three brats! That evening it was straight to bed—all movie privileges canceled.

  Until then, they had managed to see every movie aboard the ship twice—in the passengers’ theater and in the sailors’ theater, too.

  Sure, they’d been caught—and kicked out—of the sailors’ theater. But ever-persistent, they’d managed to get in—and stay in—the sailors’ theater twice. They had figured out to show up at least twenty minutes early and, when no one was around, try the back door of the theater, and if it was unlocked, slip in and hide inside the crawlspace under the stage till all the sailors had arrived. If they crept out of hiding after the lights were off and the previews were playing, they could sneak into the front row. The sailors never sat in the front row. Go figure.

  They soon realized that the movie projectionists traded the films between the two theaters, so they’d seen them already. But they also realized that The Forbidden Planet was far more exciting when it was forbidden, or at least playing in a forbidden zone.

  The McMasters kids were like all respectable brats. For them, a “Naval Personnel Only” sign waved like a red cape in front of a bull. The kids reasoned that the best way to find those signs was to follow the sailors doing their duties. The trick was to act naturally and follow from a distance so the sailors never knew they were leading them to the “Naval Personnel Only” places on the ship.

  That technique led the brats to the sailors’ bunk rooms filled with beds stacked five high. The bunks had no mattresses, just crisscrossed bands of gray canvas hung from gray metal poles, with nothing but a gray blanket. No closets either, just each sailor’s single gray footlocker lined up under the bottom bunks.

  Anyway, before they’d gotten very far exploring the bunk room, Rabbit scrambled up the bed polls like a monkey and dove into a top bunk. Unfortunately, she did it in typical Rabbit fashion—without looking to see where she’d land. The bundle of gray blankets contained a sleeping sailor who didn’t stay sleeping for long. Rabbit’s body came flying off that bunk like a dive bomber, flattening Jack and Queenie. The sailor’s shouts woke other sailors scattered throughout the room. The pile of twisted arms and legs on the floor managed to untangle before Rabbit’s victim could climb down.

  Just steps ahead of the angry sailors, the brats flew beyond the “Naval Personnel Only” restricted area and out where a bunch of kids were crowded around on deck. They pretended not to notice the sailors who came flying out the same door to hunt them down. The sailors couldn’t figure out which kids had been in their bunk room, and they were smart enough not to accuse innocent children whose fathers might be officers.

  The McMasters kids knew they’d cut that one just a little too close. So being the wise children they were, they lay low for the rest of that day.

  When the ship first left New York Harbor, they watched the great city’s skyline get smaller and smaller. The next day they walked the decks on both sides of the ship but couldn’t see land in any direction—only endless ocean. The third morning they strained to see Germany, but only ocean lay ahead.

  Rabbit was almost jumping out of her skin. “I can’t wait to get there!”

  Queenie rolled her eyes and edged away.

  Jack looked down at his little sister and said, mostly to himself, “Don’t be so anxious to get there. We should just enjoy this ship while we can. Once we’re there, we’re right back to square one—with nothing. Our friends are gone. Everything and everyone we know is gone. We don’t know a thing about the place we’re headed. We don’t know where we’ll live or where we’ll go to school, or what that will be like. Except for Mom and Dad, we won’t know a single soul. Who knows if we’ll even make friends?”

  But Rabbit wasn’t listening; she was bouncing up and down on her toes, grinning. Queenie must have heard him, though, because she said, “Don’t make yourself crazy, Jack. We’ll manage.”

  He nodded grimly, shaking it off. “You’re right. I’ll worry about that later. For now, we’ve got the Upshur to explore.”

  Within an hour, they’d discovered the gym. They hadn’t known the ship even had one, but finding it was no accident. Once again they ran across a “Naval Personnel Only” sign. This time it was fastened onto a set of gray double doors. So, naturally, they went straight through them. The gym had barbells and weights to lift, as well as parallel bars and a full basketball court. There they found a wire rack of basketballs. Perfect. They each grabbed a ball and started taking practice shots. But before they were even warmed up, the bouncing balls and Rabbit’s big mouth made a tough-looking sailor rush in and yell, “Hey, brats aren’t allowed in here! Ship out right now or I’ll report you.”

  They left one step ahead of the authorities.

  No great loss, thought Jack. Basketball wasn’t exactly his game. He was never sure how far away things were. Which made it tough to shoot baskets. Actually, shooting the ball was no problem; the tough part was getting it near the hoop. He blamed his eyes—he hated his eyes. But there was nothing he could do to fix them. He’d had eye surgery when he was three years old, at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, DC. But the surgery couldn’t have gone all that well, because his parents had been dragging him to eye doctors ever since. They kept talking about something called depth perception and how he didn’t have it. One doctor said that everyone else could see life in 3D, but Jack had to learn to manage with only seeing 2D.

  Their best adventure that day began when Queenie’s superior nose led them off a main corridor to where ten big, canvas pushcarts were piled with towels, sheets, and dirty clothes. She said, “These doors lead to the laundry. They have to have one. How else could they clean up all the puke?”

  Jack nodded. “We should see that operation.”

  They decided to back off and get comfortable so they could gather intel from a position where they could see but not be seen. About every half hour someone came out of the door, got a few big carts of dirty laundry, and wheeled them in.

  Jack said, “Let’s get in a cart. It’s our best bet.”

  They picked the cart closest to the door. Queenie held it steady while Rabbit and Jack climbed in. She covered them up with dirty laundry. Once they were hidden, she looked in a couple of carts for a sheet much cleaner than the ones she’d stuffed on top of Jack and Rabbit. She smoothed half of the sheet on top of the cart. Then grabbing hold of the farthest side of the cart, she pulled herself up, almost toppling the cart as she flopped in. She landed on top of the other two, causing a lot of shouts and wiggling, and then she pulled the other half of the almost-clean sheet over herself.

  Rabbit’s voice came up from the bottom of the cart. “Smells like somebody took a dump.”

  That time, even Queenie started giggling.

  Jack sang in a muffled voice, “Diarrhea, jolly diarrhea . . .”

  No matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t stop laughing.

  Suddenly, the door banged open. The kids froze mid-giggle. The cart began to move. Their plan might have worked, but as the cart bounced over the threshold, the door swung back, hitting the side of the cart. Rabbit put out a hand to steady herself and felt it sinking into a puddle of barf. She let out a deafening screech. The startled sailor jerked the cart to a halt. Everyone’s weight shifted, the cart fell over, and the di
rty laundry and three kids came flying out.

  Every worker in the place looked their way. Jack jumped up first and grinned. “Rats, busted again! Hi, everyone. Could we have a tour? We were willing to sit in puke to get one.”

  That got the sailors laughing. Soon, Jack had them nodding that the play area did indeed sound boring and that learning about the ship was a much better use of their time. The sailors seemed to get a kick out of outrageous Jack and his creative approach to getting into the laundry, the first kids ever to stow away in upchuck.

  So the brats got their tour of how everything worked.

  Jack couldn’t believe how many carts were lined up inside the laundry. He asked, “Who has the dirtiest stuff? The kitchen or the engine room?”

  “Are you kidding?” said the sailor who discovered them. “There ain’t no puke in the engine room.”

  That got everyone laughing.

  “Navy personnel are the best; they don’t get seasick. The Air Force on the other hand . . . very weak stomachs. But the Army—worst of all. They’re a bunch of serious pukers!”

  “Hey, we haven’t puked once and we’re Army!” Rabbit shouted.

  That pretty much ended the tour. They were escorted out to the sound of sailors shouting, “Get outta here, ya little Army brats!”

  But Jack could tell they were amused, not mad. They had made some decent friends that day.

  And here was Rabbit making another buddy, this time out of Ernie, the guy who just caught her stealing apples.

  Jack and Queenie tried to look casual as they lounged outside of the dining room, just in case Ernie caught a glimpse of them. Or Rabbit did. She couldn’t be trusted not to give them away.

  “Hey, what kinda name is Rabbit, anyway?” asked Ernie.

  “Ah, that’s just what everyone calls me. My real name is Kirsten.”

  “Well, I think I like Rabbit better than Kirsten. Why do they call you Rabbit?”

  “I don’t know. They say stuff like I’m always running around like a jackrabbit.”

  “And are you always runnin’ around like a jackrabbit?”

  “On this ship I sure am. It’s great here. We’ve been all over the place. This ship’s one of our best adventures!”

  “Yeah? Been all over the ship, huh? And do your mom and dad know you’re running all over the ship?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  The corners of Ernie’s lips pulled up in a quick smile. “So where are they?”

  “My mom’s in our cabin with her head in the toilet, and my dad is already in Germany. That’s where we’re gonna live.”

  Ernie looked down at the apples that Rabbit had nicked. “So what’s with the apples? Don’t we feed you enough?”

  “We get stuffed at every meal. They’re for one of our projects.”

  Ernie tilted his head. “Projects?”

  Rabbit moved in a little closer and whispered, “See, we were leaning over the rail of the ship, and . . .” She paused.

  “And?” Ernie asked.

  “We were having this kind of spittin’ contest. But we were so high up and the waves were so rough and it was so windy that we couldn’t see our spit hit the ocean. I mean, that was a big problem, ’cause we couldn’t tell who was winning.”

  With a little gap-toothed grin, Ernie said, “I can see that would be hard, being it was a good spittin’ contest and all. But I still don’t get it. Why’d you want the apples?”

  “See, we couldn’t see our spit hit the ocean and, you know, we wanted to see something hit the water. So I had this orange from lunch and I chucked it overboard. Boy oh boy, did that one hit. I mean we could see it. It was so great we wanted more stuff to throw.”

  “So you figured some more fruit from the mess facility would do the trick?”

  Raising her shoulders in a big shrug, she gave Ernie a look that said, “Well, what do you think?”

  Ernie did think. “Apples would be okay, I guess. But if you want to be the best bombardier ever, I know just the thing to do. And you won’t be wasting Uncle Sam’s good food doing it.”

  At this point, Jack and Queenie weren’t about to be left out. They moseyed around the corner, acting all surprised to find Rabbit.

  “So there you are!” said Queenie.

  Ernie and Rabbit looked up, and Ernie said, “Rabbit, are these your cohorts in crime?”

  “I’m not sure what cohorts is, but that’s my brother, Jack, and this is my sister, Laura.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Ernie, and everyone shook hands. The military’s pretty big on shaking hands.

  Queenie looked right at Ernie. “So what would make us the best bombardiers?”

  Ernie glanced over at Rabbit, who rolled her eyes back at him and said, “They call me Rabbit, but she has the really big ears. You can let them in on it.”

  Ernie flashed a smile. “Okay, ladies and gentleman, step right this way.”

  For the first time since boarding the ship, the three kids were shown the inner sanctum of the mess facility. Until that moment, they’d never figured a way into the ship’s kitchen. Ernie, of course, squared them away, telling them that in Navy-speak, the kitchen is called the galley.

  Jack was amazed how cramped everything was. Work tables, rows of stoves and ovens, and a small army of cooks took up every inch.

  They walked by people chopping vegetables, cooking at stoves, and kneading bread. Over in a back corner, Jack noticed a couple of very grungy sailors in filthy T-shirts washing dishes in a tight, little sink area, sweat running down their faces.

  “And we think we have it bad, having to wash the dinner dishes every night at home,” said Queenie, glancing at her brother.

  Ernie said, “We call it the scullery. If you’re unlucky enough to catch dish-washing duty . . . it’s so hot in there you sweat like a pig. It’s the ultimate crap job.”

  “I shall never complain again,” said Queenie.

  Rabbit whispered to Ernie, “Don’t believe her.”

  In another small area they spotted a guy in a tall, white chef’s hat, frosting an enormous chocolate cake.

  Starring at that luscious cake, Jack groaned, “This is the kinda place that makes a kid really hungry.”

  Ignoring Jack’s veiled attempt to get food, Ernie stopped to introduce the kids to Chef Porteaux, lord of the galley. He gave Ernie a questioning look that clearly communicated, “Why are these little brats in my kitchen?”

  Ernie quickly explained they were going to be on K.P. (Navy-speak for Kitchen Patrol). Without giving Chef Porteaux any time to think about that, Ernie hustled the kids to the back door, into a room stacked with food from floor to ceiling and where even more sailors were working.

  But they kept moving through the narrow storeroom and out the rear, into a small, dark passageway lined with garbage cans and over to a set of heavy metal doors. Once through, they found themselves out in the cold on an open deck overlooking the rear of the ship. It was like a big, private balcony, rocking up and down, back and forth, where massive waves banged against the ship.

  As Queenie crossed the balcony, her feet slipped on the wet deck and she caught her toe in one of the small holes running along the bottom of the gunnel. “Oowww!” she cried, grabbing her foot. “Why do they have those stupid holes? Don’t they know they’re dangerous?”

  Ernie said, “You wouldn’t call them stupid if the sea was high. The waves come crashin’ right over these decks and flood ’em. Those there scuppers let the water drain back into the ocean. But you’re right about catching your toe in ’em. That’s why we changed scuppers to scuffers. They sure ruin a good shoeshine. But with no scuppers, there’s no place for water to go. Get it?”

  “Do waves really get so big they crash onto the decks?” Rabbit was amazed.

  Ernie nodded. “You ain’t seen nothin’. I’ve been in ple
nty of rough seas. Especially up closer to the North Pole.”

  “You went to the North Pole?” exclaimed Rabbit. “Did you see Santa?”

  “Sure did. In fact, his sleigh and all eight reindeer flew right over our ship.”

  “Was it Christmas?” Rabbit’s eyes were as big as fifty-cent pieces.

  Ernie gave her a long, reluctant look, and finally said, “No, it was summertime, and instead of wearing his big, red coat, he was in a red T-shirt.”

  Jack laughed. But Queenie scoffed, “What was he doing out there if it wasn’t Christmas?”

  “No clue. Prob’ly just training his reindeer.” Ernie smoothly switched topics. “Rabbit, check out the view from back here.”

  They leaned over the back gunnel. This deck was much closer to the ocean than where they’d been during the spittin’ contest.

  The ocean was still rough, but the wind seemed to have died down. Actually, the wind was just as bad as before, but because they were aft, the ship blocked much of it. The giant propellers were churning the freezing, gray water, creating a huge wake that stretched out in a long path behind the ship. A sizable flock of seabirds followed the ship—the first birds the kids had seen on the voyage.

  “Wow, how did those birds fly this far out into the ocean? How do they survive?” asked Jack.

  “Oh, you’ll see in just a second,” said Ernie, “but first, Rabbit, let’s give your apples a go.”

  Rabbit gave Jack one apple and kept the other for herself. Queenie, having no apple to throw, looked rather put off, but for once she didn’t make a big stink. Rabbit chucked her apple over the side. This time it was easy to see it plunk into the water. Not bad. But with all the propeller churn it didn’t make that big a splash. Jack launched his, producing the same result.

  Queenie said, “It’s no good. We need something bigger.”

  Jack thought, You delight in pointing out what everyone else does wrong.

  Ernie didn’t seem to mind. “Right you are, Laura. Follow me!” He led them back into the dark corridor and grabbed a garbage can of food scraps. “How’s this for bigger?”