Woah, I'm Bleedinng

"Today I am taking your aloft virginity," ET2 Bodybuilder said to me and the only other female in our division, ET3 Beaver.

I was excited. I had wanted to go up the mast since I decided to enlist. I had images of me climbing up a rope ladder, knife between my teeth, until I got to the top where I would have to inch along the yard arm to my radar antenna. I was so ready!

We donned our harnesses, got our hazmat, and began our treck to the mast. ET2 Bodybuilder, thankfully, took the aloft bucket full of hazmat. Carrying that thing from our aft shop to our forward shop was enough for me. Taking it all the way up the mast would have killed me.

Behind the pilot house were metal rungs built up the wall leading to what I would have considered the roof. Beaver went up first with me just behind her. As I went up, climbing at an awkward angle, I felt as if I should start rock climbing more. Perhaps it would make this easier. At the top were a couple antennas, neither of which we were concerned with. ET2 maneuvered around us, the bucket attached to a rope and looped across his chest.

He walked up to the base of the large metal mast. A few turns of some latches and a door swung forward. Beaver and I peered inside. A ladder was set against the aft wall of a dark tunnel leading upwards. Metal grates separated each level. ET2 went first, disappearing into the darkness above. Beaver went next and then I followed, leaving the door open for light.

I looked above me. There was a clunking noise, then a creek. A tiny sliver of light appeared above me. ET2 had opened a door to the next level up. But he kept climbing. We continued up, stopping at each level, the clunking of latches and squeaking of corroding hinges breaking up the consistant metal twangs of boots on steel. Each door let us see the tunnel we were climbing up -- not that there was much to see. Wires tracing up the length of the mast and dusty metal was all that there was to the belly of the mast.

We stopped again. ET2 braced his feet on the inches of metal grate that lined the sides of the mast. Metal scraped against metal, he grunted with effort as he lifted a narrow, circular scuttle door up. Rays of bright sun shone down and illuminated the entire tunnel within. He climbed out, disappearing to whatever lay above. Beaver went next.

My head popped through to the fresh air. A platform surrounded by steel railings and containing a few different antennas topped the mast. One looking like a long rollo topped with other rollos was to my right. A large, dull-grey dome stood behind me. I grasped at the air, looking for a way to pull myself up. I grabbed a hold of the antenna closest to me and heaved. Luckily it didn't give way.

Staying hunched over I clipped my safety harness to the railing and stood up, ready to take in the sights. A loud thud reverberated through my head as sharp pain erupted. I fell back to my knees and clutched at my head. A square plate attached to the antenna I had just been holding attacked me. It's corner now tinged red -- and it wasn't from rust.

"You okay?" Beaver asked me.

I hissed but nodded. "Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. Just a bump."

But my mind was swimming with the possibilities of concussions and internal brain hemmoraging. I slowly stood back up, making sure to stay away from anything that would hurt me. Standing up, I finally had the view I wanted. The pain dulled as I looked at Souda Bay below me. Olive trees scattered across the mountains on all sides of us. The tug boats looked tiny in the distance. It was beautiful, with a lovely gust of wind that blew the smoke stack's fumes right into our faces. If it wasn't for that, the moment would be perfect.

ET2 took a few moments to point out each antenna and tell us what they did. Then he broke out the rags, gloves, and HAZMAT and we began cleaning the dome and oiling its hinges.

Afterwards he lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing.

"When you get the chance to come up here, you can't just do your maintanence and leave," he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. "You have to take a few minutes and soak it up. Ain't nothing like this."

Beaver and I leaned over the sides to watch the drills going on below. Someone had just been simulated as being shot, their body sprawled out across the quarterdeck. I couldn't tell who it was though, we were too high up. But it was fun to watch them train, anyway.

Standing at the top of the ship with a couple good friends is one way to just let the world go.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pain radiated through my head as I passed over one particular spot. I winced and pulled my fingers down. Blackened with whatever had latched onto the ladder wrungs, with grease and dust, and now tinged red with blood.

"Woah, I'm bleeding," I said as I stared at the blood.

"You really hit your head that hard?" ET2 asked as he leaned over to look. His blonde eyebrows knit over his eyes. He had a look of being half impressed and half annoyed.

"Apparently," I said.

"Just don't tell anyone you hit your head your first time up here," he said. "They'd never let you come up again."

I nodded, my head pounded with each movement. "Of course, I hit my head in berthing on my rack."

"Good girl," he agreed. He stomped out his cigarette and opened up the hatch. "Now let's see what's on the other levels."