Bathtub Admirals by Jeff Huber

By Jeff Huber

Within the depraved satirical culture of Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut, the adventures of 2 naval males stick with the US s upward push to worldwide dominance as its army burns off extra testosterone, connives to justify its bloated price range, and prepares for the final word problem the conflict on Evil. associates Jack Hogan and Buzz Rucci joined the U.S. military to shield their kingdom, yet they quickly locate themselves serving in a time "play" battle. Jack's upward thrust within the military is before everything fast as he dazzles the total army together with his really good method within the nice colossal Backfire Raid opposed to the Russians, and single-handedly saves the fleet within the virtually nice enormous teach destroy. yet his brilliance and competence foster resentment, and his naval profession is quickly within the doldrums. Buzz is not any fit for Jack s mind, yet he performs the sport and understands the folly of embarrassing his superiors. necessarily Jack alienates one too a few of the tub admirals, his profession takes a dive, and his moment marriage is going right into a skid. uninterested he is taking early retirement on the rank of commander, and in a last irony, watches newly put in Admiral Rucci sail into the sundown accountable for his personal fleet. An insider's eye for aspect and authenticity grants a scathingly humorous indictment of incompetence on the optimum ranks of the military.

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Buzz said. ” “Got to run, Buzz,” Jack said. ” He dropped the phone. “In the pilot house, this is Mister Hogan, I have the conn. ” “Right ten degrees rudder, aye,” Petty Officer Johnson said. ” Jack reached forward and grabbed the handset to the fleet tactical radio circuit off the bulkhead. “Safeguard, safeguard, safeguard. This is Constellation. My rudders are right, coming to course two-twozero. Mars is dead in the water. Farragut, Adams, Knox, and Mitscher, turn left to one-four-zero. ” He hung up the handset.

I’m the flagship,” he’d say. ” Jack turned to his Junior Officer of the Deck, a tall ensign with a cheesy moustache and plastic framed, Navy issue eyeglasses. “Groucho, keep an eye on Mars. ” “Keep an eye on Mars, aye,” Groucho said. Jack walked to the helm console and saluted Petty Officer Johnson. ” Jack took the wheel. ” Muffled guffaws from the other enlisted men occupying odd B A T H T U B A D M I R A L S n 41 corners of the darkened bridge. ” That brought more guffaws, which prompted Jack to say, “Fuck you guys again,” which prompted still more guffaws, and comments like: See?

So many people get taken in by that razzle-dazzle show-off shit. Besides, Jackie didn’t do it all by himself. I, NFO Man, was there. ” “I’m so glad someone else sees it that way. ” 62 n J E F F H U B E R His story finished, Buzz looked around the Dirty Shirt for somebody more important to talk to than Gary, which was normally anybody else there. Unfortunately for Buzz, his recital of The Great Big Backfire Raid had gone on well past lunchtime, and the only guys left in the Dirty Shirt were a pair of ensign intelligence weenies who were playing with a deck of Tarot cards as part of their training to someday become senior intelligence weenies.

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