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  • As I was reading Dave’s story, I thought “Man that is me”. I have so many memories that are too hard for me to believe I really did the things I remember. Boy, that was an awkward sentence!

    How could I have accompanied 4 other drunken sailors to a red light district in Sevelle; got chased out of one of the establishments for having no money; got a cab back to Rota, promising to pay 600 peseta’s; collectively paid 600 peseta’s, not knowing the driver meant apiece; dodged said drivers cab all the way down the pier to the boat?

    This is just one vivid memory I have of a night in Spain. To anyone who knows me it sounds like someone completely different. Have I embellished the memory? Truthfully, I don’t believe so because all the details are so vivid in my mind. I’ve only given you the bare bones of the adventure, but believe me the smells and colors and sounds of that night are so real to me. If my memory is playing with me, it has mastered the technique.

    It makes me wonder about other inexplicable adventures I “remember”. Did I really sit on the railing of the Trout's conning tower during a hurricane off the coast of North Carolina, dipping my empty coffee cup in the water each time we rolled sideways?
    I remember it that way. We rode out the storm on the surface and I didn’t want to go below where everyone was being seasick. I remember that It was a lot like being a cowboy on a bucking bronco. One arm in the air for balance as she tried to unseat me! Can this not have happened?

    And, if it is true that my memory is a master at deceiving me, is it any wonder that I enjoy being alone with my “memories”? How can anything compete with this runaway computer? And she’s mine, all mine.

    Photo is the sonar room the USS Trout SS566 now part of a coral reef somewhere.
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