|0120 Morgy||| Home | Previous | Next | Index ||
Dwayne Morgenson, whom everyone called Morgy, exept maybe his mother, was a damn good friend although I fought with him a lot, fought him a lot, not physically---he was strong and wiry. Once I confided I hated my mother. "You don't hate your mother." Morgy sensitively, concernedly replied. But I couldn't help challenging his authority until I finally made third class and became his equal. Then he made second class and it was square one all over again. Morgy was fond of addressing me as shithead and you sonofabitch, always with a smile. He bought me my first drink when we hit the Carribean; it was a Singapore Sling. We talked shop. Morgy was married and faithful. His wife lived near the base for a while and had us all over for spaghetti dinner once. Morgy played records on the Telefunkken he had purchased on his North Atlantic cruise, which he was fond of reminding us seamen was the cruise, and that no cruise of ours would ever compare, expounding again and again upon Hamburg, Germany. It's been all these years now so I guess it's ok now to tell his wife---how much Morgy loved Hamburg.
Morgy was from Michigan as was Rich Ross. Jerry Weubben was, too, I believe. Joe Cebula was from Chicago. Riling, of course was from Lake Charles, Louisiana. Gus was from San Francisco. And I don't know from where Yockey hailed. There was Tomczyk whom Joe tagged as "Checkers". His aunt lived close enough that Joe and I spent a night at their house. And there was Red, who came aboard as our first class leader. When I had first come aboard there was another "Red" whose name I can't remember---but I know it. The guy had a habit of bossing me around 'til Morgy put his foot down. But he was a marvel at tying knots. And don't forget Booth and Bothun. We were Fire Controlman, all. There was another guy, a big strapping farm boy from the midwest (there's always one) upon whom my authority failed just as Morgy's did with me. Can't remember the name of this soft spoken seaman with whom I enjoyed liberty a couple of times.
And there's another Fire Controlman I barely remember. He said he had some kind of sleeping sickness, meaning he might fall asleep while climbing the ladder to the fire control director. He talked about getting an early discharge. Can't remember any more.
There was a fireman named Frank Nicastro who was Morgy's friend. Frank didn't like being called Nick (I asked him). He told me he was a trumpet player. He was a nice guy who I really appreciated. There was another friend of Morgy's, an ET named Schmeisky, whom I made the mistake once of addressing as Shitsky, which was what Morgy was fond of calling him. But only Morgy could get away with that.
Going through these pictures, finishing up with Morgy after two solid days and about 125 slides on July 15, 2003, finally coming to Morgy, my euphoric recall shifts into high gear. These were the good ole days.
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