This web book is a memoir. It reflects my recollections of actual experiences over a short period of time a quarter of a century ago. There was a lot of drinking involved at the time, and now here I am trying to remember all the things I went to the bar to forget.
So I’ll start by saying that *all* characters are fictional composites based upon the very real 134+ member crew and numerous bartenders, waitresses, strippers, pub patrons and the cops I’ve met in that period in order to protect the guilty. (You know who you are.) Dialogue has been recreated to the best of my abilities from all the bits and pieces I do remember quite vividly. Or maybe the vivid parts are from movies that I now think were things I said back then. I dunno. Alcohol is a hell of a drug.
Some names may be similar to actual names. Hell, they might even rhyme. That’s just because I’m not very creative. Or in some cases I only changed a first name. (Hey look! It’s a new person!) I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. My hands were tied. You see, some of the nicknames that are based upon the real names are simply too good to not share with the world. So basically, it’s not my fault. (Note that I did not make up said nicknames; I’m merely passing those gems along.) The important thing to remember is that all of the characters are composites. They’re fake people made out of three or four or maybe even fourteen real people.
I mean, did you really want me to cram 200 people into one book? Sadist. Like, you want me to describe a new person on each and every page just to say one silly thing, and then vanish from the pages, never to be seen again? I don’t think so! Plus, now their real actions can be written about without disclosing the real person. (Real people are so sensitive!) So, one might call this a Roman à Clef, which I am surely mispronouncing in real life, so maybe if one also did not take French in high school, one should not actually call this that either.
CONFIDENTIAL-NOFORN information about the nuclear propulsion plant has been changed to unclassified civilian reactor equivalents so that the reader remains immersed in submarine life while the author remains not immersed in prison life. Same goes for SECRET and TOP SECRET submarine missions. You get the unclassified versions. I wish I could share but I signed papers, unfortunately. (I didn’t actually read them before signing, but I’m fairly certain those documents I signed gave me authorization to kill. So basically, I’m not protecting me, I’m protecting you here.) Okay, okay, okay… I don’t have a license to kill. It’s just that I was in the back of the boat, way down inside the belly of the beast, and didn’t really know what was going on up in the control room. Satisfied now? Sheesh.
Some of these true events have been compressed in time or somewhat altered because in the course of research, I’ve discovered I’ve been telling a lot of stories with little untruths here and there in bars over the years to patrons with the misfortune of sitting next to me. For example, for about twenty years, I’ve been regurgitating this somewhat entertaining story that happened on a specific day in a specific area with consequences directly related to the Honolulu Marathon. Turns out the Honolulu Marathon isn’t held on that particular day or route!
Yet the story did indeed happen. In reality, it was the Aloha Run that led to… well led to something, that’s for sure, and in those two decades of retelling it, I made one or two pretty girls laugh. (Maybe they misunderstood me.) But could you imagine if I didn’t catch the error?
“Well, I ran the Honolulu Marathon that year, and it wasn’t on that day, and it didn’t go by the submarine base. This guy is full of poop! He probably eats it, he’s so full of it. We got a poop eater over here!”
But I did catch the error. Yeah, the Honolulu Marathon-Aloha Run mix up made that particular story an easy one to research and correct. Yet I’m sure that for many other stories I’ve told without a high-profile event to look up for verification, I’ve mixed quite a few things up. Blame it on the booze. So… for things I couldn’t verify, I said, “You know what? F that. This story goes here in the timeline. Case closed.”
So that’s that. Hopefully you can still enjoy this fairy tale sea story. It’s a real once upon a timer no-shitter.