“What’s your name, son?“ he asked reassuringly.

“Drury, Sir,“ I responded as I wondered what tack he’d take.

“Mr. Drury, I understand from the Executive Officer, LCDR Merwin, that you refuse to eat. Is that correct?“ he asked.

“Yes Sir, it is,“ I replied in a somewhat more relaxed, though slightly guarded manner.

As I shifted the weight of my body in the chair, he continued, “I’m sure you have a very good reason for not wanting to eat, but that’s not why I’ve come to talk with you. I’ve come as a man of the cloth who is very concerned about the welfare of a particular seaman onboard this ship. You see, Mr. Drury, you don’t realize the physical harm you are inflicting upon yourself as you continue to deny your body the nutrients it needs to function properly.“

“When was the last time you had anything to eat?“ he asked.

“About three weeks ago,“ I answered.

“Have you been drinking plenty of fluids?“ he inquired further.

“Yes Sir,“ I replied. “I’ve been drinking a glass of fruit juice at meal times and lots of water in between.“

“And it’s been three weeks, you say, since you last ate solid food of any kind?“ he asked again.

“Yes Sir,“ I replied.

As the expression on his face filled with alarm, I was again overcome with fear.

“You know, Mr. Drury,“ he went on to say, “the body can survive for awhile without food, as it feeds off the reserves it has stored up for leaner times. If this deprivation persists, the body will eventually deplete these reserves. When that happens, it’ll begin to feed on its own muscle tissue and organs, causing irreversible damage. As your body literally eats itself up, you will suffer an agonizingly slow and painful death.

“I offer you this perspective,“ he concluded, “with the hope that you may realize, before it’s too late, the great harm you’ll be inflicting upon your body, should you decide to continue with your fast.“

As he fell silent, I grew fearful of what harm I might already have caused myself. I felt confused. When I began this fast, I certainly never had any intention of harming my body or causing my own death. Thus did I take the sudden appearance of the symptoms of my fast as a sign that maybe I was pushing this whole thing a bit too far.

As I stewed over the matter, I wondered what’d happen to me if I caved in ’n’ broke my fast. Would I be discharged anyway? Regardless of whether I was or not, I certainly couldn’t continue on without eating. Besides, I could never bear the thought that I had caused my body to suffer irreparable damage, just because I’d wanted out of the Navy. At least, I felt my actions had let them know I was having an extremely difficult time adjusting to the Navy. Or had I simply convinced them I was only half-crazy? As my feelings came to a head, I realized that I must eat, no matter what they thought.

“I’ll eat,“ I finally said with some reluctance.

“Good!“ he exclaimed. “I think you’ve made a wise decision.“

“Mr. Drury, Sir,“ smartly snapped the Lieutenant.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,“ snapped the XO. “You may go now.“

“Have a seat, Mr. Drury,“ the XO said in a rather annoyed tone of voice as the door slammed shut behind the Lieutenant.

“What’s this, I hear, about your refusing to eat?“ he asked.

“I don’t wanna eat anymore,“ I managed to squeak out as I struggled to control the trembling of my body with fear.

“Poppycock!“ he shouted in my face. “You will eat, Mr. Drury, because I order you to. Do you understand?“

“No Sir, I don’t,“ I replied rather indignantly.

Failing to elicit an obedient response from me, he decided to take a different tack. “Did you know, Mr. Drury,“ he began, “that by refusing to eat you are willfully destroying government property?“

Puzzled, I asked, “How’s that, Sir?“

“When you enlisted in the Navy,“ he replied, “you signed your life over to the government of the United States to be used as it sees fit. In effect, you became government property. Whatever befalls you befalls the property of the government of the United States. So you see, Mr. Drury, you could quite possibly be charged with the willful destruction of government property if, in the continuation of this ridiculous fast of yours, you harm yourself in any way.“

Irked by his insistence that I was government property, I responded rather coldly, “I see.“ For I wanted so badly to tell him I was not some soulless piece of meat the Navy could order around like a zombie, but bit my lip instead.

Having threatened to write me up if I didn’t eat, he again ordered me to eat.

Once again, I refused.

“You leave me no choice then,“ he concluded as he rose from his
chair and hurried out the door.

As soon as he heard the “s“ word, he honed in on it like a vulture on a fly, as if the real reason for my fast were hidden in some dark dirty little secret surrounding my sexuality. “Have you ever desired sex or had sex with anyone onboard this ship?“ he asked.

Bewildered by what I thought was the most bizarre question I’d ever been asked, I finally responded, “No, I can’t say that I have ever desired to have sex with anyone onboard the ship. I have a girl friend back home in St. Louis, whom I love very much and dream about marrying some day. Occasionally, I have fantasies of having sex with her. As far as having sex with other guys, why I have never heard of such a thing! I can’t even imagine how that would work. I assure you, Lt. Smith, my problem with sex has nothing to do with anyone else onboard this ship but my self. I just can’t seem to find out where I fit in.“

“Mr. Drury, I fail to see anything in what you’ve said that’d warrant taking such a drastic step as to refuse yourself food,“ he concluded.

“I feel sorry for you, Sir,“ I rejoined, “that you’re so oblivious to the pain and suffering you inflict upon the souls under your command. In choosing to live blindly, you can’t see beyond the bread you eat.“

It became clear to me that we weren’t talking to each other on the same wavelength. At that point, I wasn’t sure where the hell I was coming from. Normally, I didn’t talk like this, especially to a lieutenant. Besides, I wasn’t sure I saw much beyond the bread I used to eat.

In an attempt to regain control over the situation, the Lieutenant resorted to his power as a superior officer. “Mr. Drury,“ he snapped back, “I order you to eat.“

Chuckling to myself, I shook my head in disbelief. “Sir, neither you nor the whole damn Navy can make me eat if I don’t want to.

“Do you know the consequences, Mr. Drury, for refusing the direct order of a superior officer?“

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, Sir,“ I answered.

“A court-martial,“ he replied with a grin when he saw me squirm in my seat. “And brig time,“ he added. Having succeeded in stirring up a great deal of fear within me, he again ordered me to eat.

“You can’t make me eat,“ I insisted as I struggled to stay on top of the fear that, by now, had my whole body trembling.

“You leave me no choice, Mr. Drury, but to refer the matter to the Executive Officer,“ he snapped back. “Come with me,“ he commanded as he jumped up from his seat and hurried out the door, only to disappear through another just down the passageway.

Nervous as hell, I sprang to my feet and followed him down the passageway, to a ladder that led up to officer’s country. While the Corpsman and my Division Officer conferred briefly, I stood outside his stateroom.

Suddenly the door popped open.

“Come in, Mr. Drury,“ commanded the Corpsman. As I entered, he introduced me to the Lieutenant.

“You may go now,“ said the Lieutenant to the Corpsman, as he disappeared out the door.

“Have a seat, Mr. Drury,“ said the Lieutenant, after a brief interlude in which he sat behind his desk, looking me over, while I stood there at attention with my eyes transfixed on a spot over his head on the bulkhead behind him.

As I sat down, I was immediately struck by how much he resembled a television character from my youth—a puppet named Howdy Doody. That the Lieutenant had a smaller head and wore glasses were about the only differences I saw between him and his caricature.

“The Corpsman tells me you don’t want to eat anymore. Is that true, Mr. Drury?“ he finally asked.

Looking him straight in the eye, I smiled nervously. “The Corpsman has told you the truth. I don’t wanna eat anymore,“ I replied.

Completely taken aback by my candor, he broke into a monologue, in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

“Now, Mr. Drury,“ he began, “you and I both know that we must eat in order to survive. Isn’t that correct?“

In a tremendous struggle within myself to gain control over my fear of speaking from the heart, I regurgitated a biblical quote in response, “Man does not live by bread alone, Sir, but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.“

Now I was just as surprised by my response as he was. Though the words had flown way over his head, I was struck by how instinctively they had gushed forth from my mouth. As we both struggled, during this very brief interlude, to comprehend what the hell I was trying to say, I experienced some vague notion that man does not live by images alone, like an animal, but on the meaning of those images instead.

Ignoring the quote, again he asked me, “Can you tell me, Mr. Drury, in your own words, this time, why you no longer wish to eat?“

Because I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d tell them when they found out about my fast, I didn’t know what to say. How could I tell him I just wanted out of the Navy?

To buy myself more time in which to collect my thoughts, I simply repeated my initial statement, “Man does not live by bread alone, but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.“

“Come now, Mr. Drury,“ he replied, “I find it hard to believe that you have quit eating for God’s sake. There must be some reason why you have chosen to hurt yourself in this manner. Now what is it?“

Just then, I saw a way out. I’d refuse to eat until the Navy released me. “What a great idea!“ I said to my self. “Since I won’t be hurting anyone, what can they do to me? They can’t make me eat if I don’t wanna. What are they gonna do with an emaciated sailor? Force me to eat. I’m afraid not, for I refuse to eat another bite until they promise to discharge me from the Navy.“

From that moment on, I took in nothing by mouth except liquids. Before each meal, I drank a large glass of juice to quell the pangs of hunger my body suffered while I served food on the mess line. In between meals, I drank enough water to keep me hydrated as I continued to sweat it out in the galley.

The first week of my fast was the hardest. With food in front of my face and in my hands throughout most of the day, the temptation to eat was ever present. To resist such habits as nibbling in between meals, or testing the food being prepared, or licking my fingers, took considerable effort. Even more difficult was spitting out the morsel of food I’d unwittingly stick into my mouth as I worked.

But I found solace in the most unlikely place, my body. As my mule carried me on its back across this barren desert, in the most striking fantasy, I saw the bubble of each temptation to eat burst in front of my eyes, like a mirage. Instead, I was safely transported to a small oasis that jutted up from the floor of the desert, like a mount of olive trees. Dismounting, I entered the garden to pray. While those around me slept, I sweated blood. Several times, I arose to arouse them, to no avail. As I continued to pray, I asked God to let this cup pass if it be His will, for evil men waited outside this garden to do me harm.

As an angry crew forced its way onto the mess decks, in reality, I was forced to leave my fantasy, to help serve them their dinner which, in their eyes, had been unduly delayed. With the opening of the mess decks for a slightly delayed evening meal, I got lost in this desert of dead heads. Separated from my mule, I crawled back into my fantasy, across the hot desert sands on my hands ’n’ knees, in search of a way out as I plunked down spoonful after spoonful of food onto the trays of these wild angry boors.