NAKAMOTO

• 12, 18, 2021
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NAKAMOTO

Major Nakamoto Haitani arrived late, after the first week or so of training.  He just showed up one morning at muster and our lead instructor, Lieutenant Chico Waldrop, introduced us.  There was a formal acknowledgement but no handshakes.  As things developed, our cool relationship never got much better. Chico explained that Nakamoto was a surname, but it comes before another in Japan.  So, he would thenceforth be called Nakamoto.  Nakamoto was short and stocky with short jet-black hair.  He had a grim expression that almost never changed. You could sense that there was a lot of power in his squat body.  Even then, I could see that his English was almost non-existent. He was apparently not following much of what was said but it was hard to know because his expression never changed. Waldrop immediately assigned him to me as my swim partner.

NAKAMOTO FREEZES

After Nakamoto arrived we got our basic instruction in scuba diving. Then, one day we were told that we had more advanced underwater training to complete. That day’s event was buddy-breathing drills. If your scuba rig quits, you and your swim buddy have to share the same air supply. So, you both have to breathe from one mouthpiece. One guy takes a few breaths and then hands the mouthpiece to his partner, who then he takes a few breaths. The idea in the drill is that you keep going back and forth until you can fix the problem or get to the surface together. The instructors watch carefully to see whether you will panic.  Or, at least, they’re supposed to.

A day later Ryder and I were having a beer and pizza at the officer’s club. Or rather, I was having a beer and he was having a lemonade and we were both having a pizza.

“He did it again,” I said.

“Nakamoto?”

“Yeah.”

“Did what?” Ryder said.

“He froze up.”

“In the scuba drill?”

“Yeah. You didn’t see it? You were about ten feet away.”

“You kidding me? I was pretty busy down there myself. What happened?”

“Well, he and I are waiting at the bottom of the pool. Both our rigs are working fine. The instructors are circling around on the surface above us like they do—you know, like buzzards. Murphy starts things off by diving down and jerking my mouthpiece out and letting it fly up above me—of course, the air was blasting out of and it was dancing around. Then, while I was grabbing it back, he goes behind me and turns off my air valve—back behind my head where I can’t see it, of course. Then, while I’m reaching around to deal with that, he grabs the mouthpiece again and ties the hoses in knots.”

“Yeah, Murphy did the same thing to me. I think it’s his idea of fun.”

“So now I really can’t get any air and I know it will take time to untangle the hoses. All right, I say to myself. it’s a drill. Remain calm. No problem, right? I just have to buddy breathe with Nakamoto until I can turn on the regulator and untie the knots. Nakamoto sees all this, of course. So, I let him take a few of breaths from his own rig. I reach out to get his mouthpiece. He won’t turn it loose. Clamps his teeth on it and just stares at me, eyes big as fried eggs behind that mask. Looked like he was in some kind of trance. So now I’m getting desperate. I reach out and jerk the mouthpiece out of his mouth and take a few breaths. Then I hand it back to him and—get this–he just stares at me. He won’t take it back. I have to jam it into his mouth. Then, after he takes a few breaths, I have to jerk it away from him again and do the whole thing all over. Took me forever to get the knots out. Man, I just don’t see how I can swim with this guy.”

“Did Murphy see all that?”

“I don’t see how he could have missed it. He was right there.”

“Well, sure, you don’t want to swim with Mister Moto, I see that, but what can you do?

“I think I’ll talk to Chico Waldrop.”

“I’d think about that. They hate a complainer. The Chico can make things tough for you. Why don’t you give it a few days and see if the instructors will deal with it on their own?”

So, I waited through Friday and the weekend and nobody did anything, and that’s how I wound up on Monday dripping seawater onto The Chico’s polished floor.