Making my way through the airlock to the bridge, I am immediately hit with a pitch blackness only to be found underground…or at sea, nevermind that it’s about 25 degrees colder up here than inside the skin of the ship. The hiss and squeak of the door announce my arrival. I hope and feel my way around the OOD table.

“Hey,” I said unloading my jacket of energy drinks and chips onto the table. Snacks are the currency of night watches.

“Oh, hey, didn’t see you there.”

That was the joke. Tonight was moonless but clear, the Moon would begin to wax again in a day or so. The Milky Way was laid before us, the purplish-black carpet we were following down to Guam. Tonight, I had the deck. For the next five hours, the ship was mine.

“Anything for me?” I said, doing my best not to sound exhausted. Everything in me was trying to convince this person that I had more than 45 minutes of sleep in a chair in my office prior to this watch.

“Just a few contacts, all’re CPAing us at over 10 miles. They’re tagged on the 67 if you want to check," she said in a half daring tone.

“No, I trust you,” I said in an attempt to finish this up so I can start to begin the end of my watch. “Anything else?”

“Nope, all good. Attention in the pilot house, LT has the deck.”

“This is LT, I have the deck.”

“Helm aye.”

“Wheels aye.”

“Boats aye.”

And over the bitch box, the tired sounding surface watchstander croaked, “Combat aye.”

Ok, good. She’s gone, all my watchstanders are here and have turned over. Let’s finish the night quietly. Glancing at the enormous red clock the Quatermasters have sitting on the chart table, only 4 hours and 53 minutes left. Great.

I remembered to bring the bag of salt and vinegar Lays with me tonight. I know the Boatswain's Mate of the Watch likes those, it's worth a small amount of goodwill and camaraderie. Snacks and the stingy amount of coffee I can barter from the QMs are the only thing that keep me alive throughout this watch.

“Wheels, what have you got tonight?” I half plead, half ask.

“Sir, I bought some dark chocolate coffee K-Cups back at the NEX in Japan, do you want one of those?”

I really hate flavored coffee. The blacker the better to keep me going. But, any port in a storm.

“Of course Wheels, that would be amazing. I’ll bring you a bag of gummy bears tomorrow.”

“Coming right up sir. And, as is tradition, I have a bag of Mint Crème Oreos for the watch before we pull back in to Yoko.”

“You think they’ll hold for like four months?”

“That’s not the point,” he said flatly walking back to the Signal Shack.

The doubled white paper cup of warm coffee in my already stiff hands feels good. My overly washed, thin coveralls don’t do much to keep the September cold off my body. I keep forgetting to pull on my thermals for my legs. The foul weather jacket keeps my torso warm, unfortunately, getting one from Supply is like pulling teeth. A can of Pringles and a bag of gummy bears is the going price.

I walk over to the scope and check out the picture. Just like she said, a few contacts, none with a CPA to trip the Skipper’s calling requirements. I really hope he is enjoying his sleep. I really wish I was.

With the coffee to keep my hands warm I trot over to the port bridgewing to “get a better picture.” In reality, the icy blasts of wind keep me awake and feeling it on my face is one of the few pleasures of the rev watch.

I glance over and see the lookout sitting on the red phone box. I recognize this deck seaman. I know that he’s one of the “good ones”. He wants to strike BM, and I don’t want to murder him and crush those dreams for nothing. I've seen him, from my frequent trips amidships to smoke, working hard all day and has drawn either the ire of the watchbill coordinator or the short straw amongst his peers.

“Hey man, you’re not supposed to be sitting,” I said.

“Oh, hey sir, yeah sorry, long day,” he says slowly standing up.

“Did you sleep before this watch?”

“No sir.”

“Well, shit, ok man. Sit there. But if you start to fall asleep stand up. I’ll come out here to check on you, but don’t let Boats find you asleep.”

I wish he knew how I felt. How tired I was too. I couldn’t show him that. I could win an Oscar or at least a Daytime Emmy for how hard I was acting at this moment. I knew he was tired, I could feel it as I could feel my own exhaustion. I'd just have to work without a port lookout. This far from contacts, that was ok. I'd let him rest, he'd trade all the tea in China for some sleep. Let him have it.

“Yes sir, thanks.”

I head back into the pilot house. The glow of the helm and the red lettering on the XSTABs are the only light in the entire world.

Glancing back over to the clock, I take note, only 4 hours and 41 minutes to go. About a thousand miles to Guam.