i was back in the Navy, the active duty Navy. i regretfully left my beautiful wife and our precious six-week old daughter Blythe in Paris, Texas with her parents. My parents and bt rother Joe joined us for the last few days.

That was when our father challenged us to a match of eight ball on the pool table in the garage Kathie’s father had turned into a recreation room. Colonel Lynch, a retired US Army artillery officer was fond of repeating the saw, “It’s Hard To Remember That Your Initial Objective Was To Drain The Swamp.” He was therefore called affectionately “The Alligator” and his rec room/garage was known as the “Alligator Pit.” Kathie was his partner. We, of course, were thinking this is going to be a piece of cake. My father broke and ran the table. Gaping at each other we exclaimed we didn’t know Daddy played pool. Mother chimed in, “There’s a lot of things about your father you don’t know.”

My family drove me back to Tennessee and i caught a flight to Newark. Funny, how you remember certain things: i was sitting in the Newark airport waiting for the departure of the MAC flight to Rota, Spain. i had on my service dress khakis with the blouse and shoulder boards ( i still think that was the sharpest officer’s uniform the Navy ever had). i ordered a Carlsberg Elephant Malt Liquor. It still tastes good.

My MAC flight, as most flights carrying Naval personnel east did, we stopped in Rota. Unlike my first time, the top was only one night. i caught another flight to Naples, sitting next to a NESEP Ensign and a senior chief. We were berthed at the same hotel and agreed to dine together for dinner. The senior chief said he knew a great Italian place. We headed out until the senior chief directed the cab driver to stop. We walked down a large street and followed the chief when he turned left. It was a stairway as wide as a four-lane highway with streets and apartments chock-a-block all the way.

i realized we were in an area designated as off-limits. The senior chief confirmed my suspicions, but it did not deter us. About two-thirds of the way up the steps, the senior chief stopped and entered a wooden door of an unmarked store front. Inside, it was white on white: white plaster walls, round rickety tables covered with white tablecloths, the wooden chairs were rickety as well. In the middle of the table was an empty wine bottle with a candle and drippings along the side, gasp, like all those Italian restaurants in the states.

A problem arose when we realized none of us spoke Italian and no one in the restaurant spoke English. With standard terms like “spaghetti” and gesturing, we ordered bread, spaghetti and meatballs, and a bottle of wine. The brought out our orders quickly and placed the wine alongside the empty one with the candle. The wine bottle was not labeled. i proceeded to have the best Italian meal i’ve ever had with an incredible wine. Perhaps the atmosphere impacted my perception, but it was wonderful.

Next to the ceiling in a corner was a small black and white television. The 1972 Olympics in Munich was on. We sat and watched while we finished our wine — i didn’t learn of the terrorist attack on the Jewish team until i reported aboard.

The next day, we all went our separate ways. i flew to the island of Korfu, Greece. i took a cab to the port and reported aboard my next ship, the USS Stephen B. Luce (DLG 7) in the mid-afternoon. The flight and travel had worn me out and even though i wanted to see Korfu, no matter how short, i was too tired. i was introduced to the XO, LCDR Ted Fenno, and the commanding officer, CDR Richard Butts, taken to my stateroom, climbed into my upper rack, and went to sleep.

One of the best and too short tours of my Navy career had begun.