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Which World Leader Will Blink First? Real, historically accurate, salty, and gritty Written by a sailor for sailors about sailors Available Amazon	Excerpt: Glancing up, Kramer stops, "no f-ing way!" Pointing to the top of the stairs, "Look!" A freshly painted sign, creaking gently in the night breeze reads, The Rat and Raven. "What the hell?" "Can you believe that shit?" "Unbelievable!" None can stop staring. Nobody wants to stop staring. Silence. Finally, laughter. Lots of it. "We should go in and toast Cappel!" suggests Lanny. "Best idea you've had since Chile, asswipe," Duke criticizes. Slowly, they climb while staring at the squeaky sign. Like a hysterical mob on their heels, their footfalls echo in the narrow space between stone walls. They enter. Rio memories come flooding back. Leaving Cappel and his insane offer behind was tough. Damn tough. Thinking, Kramer fires up his Zippo, saying goodbye to Cappel had really sucked. They'd all promised to see each other again but deep-down thinking, would they? They order whisky all around. "A toast to our good friend Cappel. May he always be in our hearts!" announces Kramer. They clink glasses, laugh, cheer and order again. "What the f-ck?" yells Smythe, pointing towards the bar. "Would you look at that. Holyyy shit!" adds Rocker. "Motherf---er!" adds Duke. Behind the bar, on the wall, hangs a picture of Mullinnix. Stunned silence ensues. Eyeing the women at the window table, "So, do we stay here in remembrance and in hopes of two of us getting lucky? Or do we move on?" Rocker asks. "Let's move on. We haven't begun to hit all the bars," says Smythe. The others reluctantly agree, pay their tab, chug the last drink, and stand to leave... ...Cappel walks in...

Real, historically accurate, salty, and gritty Written by a sailor for sailors about sailors Available B&N, Amazon, Google Books, IndieBound, Books-a-Million, Indigo, Kobo, Hudson	Excerpt: The dim outline of the coast began to take shape. An early morning mist rose from the ground. With it a very real danger. Birdman was in the MK68 Director. He could see fires burning up and down the coast. The beach was stained brown at the high-water mark, exposing sand sculptured by the current. Beyond the elephant grass, rice paddies, and hills chemically defoliated by Agent Orange (A.O.) was smudged black smoke and the gasoline-smell of napalm. Birdman thought, 'we all are going to die!' Country Joe again. The sun climbed and Mux lost her shadow. The mountains appeared above thinning clouds. Heat rose with the authority of a flooding tide. The sun burned through to bone. We had arrived in the fresh-air mental asylum of Indochina. Mullinnix flashed a light to inform the other ships 'the top gun of the Atlantic Fleet had arrived'. Each sent a return light. The decks were already hot to the touch. The sky was an indigo blue. In a cloudless sky, jets changed pitch to an ear-numbing scream as they dove into the jungle. Abruptly, they'd pull up just clearing the treetops. Releasing their load as they climbed. Little black eggs tumbled end-over-end, vanishing into the canopy. Moments later, lush green changed to molten red and orange as fire balls consumed oxygen and vegetation. Napalm. A mushroom cloud of smoke and flame rose from a fuel dump that was hit. Generating heat so great water in a nearby lake boiled. Liquid flame rained down in umbrella fashion setting of drums of diesel like strings of firecrackers. The crew watched tanks battling on the beach. The earth erupted filling the air with grit. We could hear constant rattle of machine gun fire, the sharpness of rifle-fire, and the heavy pounding of offshore shelling. Fires flared and twisted in the wind. The smell of smoke, death, and decay drifted towards Mullinnix, leaving a metallic taste in our mouths that we couldn't shake. My thoughts were like scrambled eggs. I didn't know what to think. So, I didn't. Birdman may have been right. I knew the Animals were. The crew didn't have to wait long. A mere thirty-eight minutes after arriving, an explosion port side at 1307 send a geyser of water as high as the stacks. Then the scream of the 1MC... Counter Battery! Counter Battery! Return Fire! Return Fire!!!

Which World Leader Will Blink First?

Real, historically accurate, salty, and gritty

Written by a sailor for sailors about sailors

Available Amazon

Excerpt: Glancing up, Kramer stops, "no f-ing way!" Pointing to the top of the stairs, "Look!" A freshly painted sign, creaking gently in the night breeze reads, The Rat and Raven.

"What the hell?"

"Can you believe that shit?"

"Unbelievable!" None can stop staring. Nobody wants to stop staring. Silence. Finally, laughter. Lots of it. "We should go in and toast Cappel!" suggests Lanny.

"Best idea you've had since Chile, asswipe," Duke criticizes. Slowly, they climb while staring at the squeaky sign. Like a hysterical mob on their heels, their footfalls echo in the narrow space between stone walls.

They enter. Rio memories come flooding back. Leaving Cappel and his insane offer behind was tough. Damn tough. Thinking, Kramer fires up his Zippo, saying goodbye to Cappel had really sucked. They'd all promised to see each other again but deep-down thinking, would they?

They order whisky all around. "A toast to our good friend Cappel. May he always be in our hearts!" announces Kramer. They clink glasses, laugh, cheer and order again.

"What the f-ck?" yells Smythe, pointing towards the bar.

"Would you look at that. Holyyy shit!" adds Rocker.

"Motherf---er!" adds Duke. Behind the bar, on the wall, hangs a picture of Mullinnix. Stunned silence ensues.

Eyeing the women at the window table, "So, do we stay here in remembrance and in hopes of two of us getting lucky? Or do we move on?" Rocker asks.

"Let's move on. We haven't begun to hit all the bars," says Smythe. The others reluctantly agree, pay their tab, chug the last drink, and stand to leave...

...Cappel walks in...

Real, historically accurate, salty, and gritty

Written by a sailor for sailors about sailors

Available B&N, Amazon,
Google Books, IndieBound,
Books-a-Million, Indigo,
Kobo, Hudson

Excerpt: The dim outline of the coast began to take shape. An early morning mist rose from the ground. With it a very real danger. Birdman was in the MK68 Director. He could see fires burning up and down the coast. The beach was stained brown at the high-water mark, exposing sand sculptured by the current. Beyond the elephant grass, rice paddies, and hills chemically defoliated by Agent Orange (A.O.) was smudged black smoke and the gasoline-smell of napalm. Birdman thought, 'we all are going to die!'

Country Joe again. The sun climbed and Mux lost her shadow. The mountains appeared above thinning clouds. Heat rose with the authority of a flooding tide. The sun burned through to bone. We had arrived in the fresh-air mental asylum of Indochina. Mullinnix flashed a light to inform the other ships 'the top gun of the Atlantic Fleet had arrived'. Each sent a return light. The decks were already hot to the touch. The sky was an indigo blue.

In a cloudless sky, jets changed pitch to an ear-numbing scream as they dove into the jungle. Abruptly, they'd pull up just clearing the treetops. Releasing their load as they climbed. Little black eggs tumbled end-over-end, vanishing into the canopy. Moments later, lush green changed to molten red and orange as fire balls consumed oxygen and vegetation. Napalm.

A mushroom cloud of smoke and flame rose from a fuel dump that was hit. Generating heat so great water in a nearby lake boiled. Liquid flame rained down in umbrella fashion setting of drums of diesel like strings of firecrackers.

The crew watched tanks battling on the beach. The earth erupted filling the air with grit. We could hear constant rattle of machine gun fire, the sharpness of rifle-fire, and the heavy pounding of offshore shelling. Fires flared and twisted in the wind. The smell of smoke, death, and decay drifted towards Mullinnix, leaving a metallic taste in our mouths that we couldn't shake. My thoughts were like scrambled eggs. I didn't know what to think. So, I didn't. Birdman may have been right. I knew the Animals were.

The crew didn't have to wait long. A mere thirty-eight minutes after arriving, an explosion port side at 1307 send a geyser of water as high as the stacks. Then the scream of the 1MC...

Counter Battery!
Counter Battery!
Return Fire! Return Fire!!!