AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

Great, I thought, now I’m seeing the face of political correctness.

The girl probably slept her way to the top.

I realize everyone is staring at me.

Jennifer and I both notice the strong stench of alcohol (From the crusty captain), creosote from the wood on the docks and his diesel exhaust.

We both back away from the eye-watering fumes seemingly emanating from him that had engulfed us.

I try making a joke of it all,

“Ah, nothing like the smell of creosote and diesel on the open waters!”

Nobody reacts to my bad joke so I shut up.

Jennifer Tavana’s Diary

Great! These boys probably think I’m too girly and have no idea who I am or what I’ve done. Toughen up soldier girl!

I’m getting to the bottom of this story: This drunken idiot thought he saw a “sub!”

Probably only after a 5^th of Jack Daniels too!

The only reason I’m taking this drunk’s boat is to get to the bottom of this fish story that’s been going all over Southeast Alaska.

These sub sightings have gone on for the past five years. And the fish stories are only growing. “Captain Jack” isn’t the only moron that claims to have seen a sub. Seven Alaskans now swear they’ve seen a sub too. What makes me think they might have some credibility is:

They all describe the exact same type of boat without any pictures, diagrams and none have any naval experience or know each other.

A RUSSIAN S.S.B.N.

TYPHOON BOOMER!

Impossible!

I’m the only one, on my own time, who’s gone out and interviewed all seven people. If I told the FBI what I was doing I’d probably no longer be an agent.

While most people are wonderful here in Alaska, there are also a few crazy people that give us all a bad name.

Now everyone is staring at me, the girly girl!

My Diary

After the awkward moment the captain welcomes us aboard.

I’m thinking: That was weird!

We all just stood and stared at each other.

Maybe they all have PTSD!

Jennifer tosses her bug-out bag to Mike before stepping aboard.

Mike looks in the bag and starts taking inventory, “Four, aluminum space blankets, four lighters, freeze dried food, reindeer jerky, a first aid kit stocked with gauze, bandages, tape, scissors, a personal ELT and Celox.”

Mike looks at Jen, “What the hell is Celox.”

I’m already impressed with this “girl.” She’s definitely Ex-Navy. Anyone with a little military experience knows that Celox is an over-the-counter coagulant used to quickly stop bleeding.

Jen looks at me and I smile, probably the only other one on the dock, who gets it!

Mike continues in his ignorance: “Oh and a big frickin bottle of hydrogen peroxide.”

I smile again thinking, Cheapest sterilization and disinfectant around!

Jennifer’s Diary

My dad was a stickler for hydrogen peroxide.

I never want to hear my dad’s voice going off in the middle of nowhere.

Could have used a bottle of peroxide now, couldn’t you?

My mom fled Iranian when I was just five. We had to leave dad behind. He was a doctor in Iran and the government wouldn’t let him leave because he was considered “necessary personnel.”

My dad helped her and me flee the oppressive, totalitarian government to give her and me a better life. My mom found out my dad was jailed, tortured and killed by the Iranian government in 1990.

My mother enlisted in the Navy and studied nursing and was transferred to a Navy hospital ship. Women weren’t allowed on any other types of ships in those days.

When my mother got out she went to the University of Alaska and got an engineering degree. She met a nice Aleut native on campus and before she left school they married and had their first child, my sister.

Again, this Denning guy looks handsome but he probably thinks I’m all beauty and no brains, which is exactly what he looks like.

I’m embarrassed with all of these gross men staring at me.

Mike tosses the ropes onto the ship and hops aboard.

I notice “Captain Jack” is trying to cover a very distinct limp.

As our crusty old fishing boat creeps away from the dock I made my way to the bridge.

I knew I might not have another chance to talk with the captain about the sub.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk around town about your tall tale, wanna tell me?”

Jack deflected, “Which one?”

I smile, “The one about the sub.”

Jack shrugs, “Oh, I was drunk. Don’t believe every story you hear.”

I pause before asking, “So you made the whole thing up?”

Jack ignores me saying; “I gotta get us out of the Basin.”

“Fair enough,” I respond.

With that, Jack shows off his talents, by maneuvering slowly out of the Basin.

As we sputter down the Tongass Narrows, Jack is outside the bridge. I notice an old book casually sitting on the captain’s chair.

I open it and realize this is the captain’s own personal diary. As I thumb through the pages I see Jack, outside, is busy yelling at Mike.

I rifle through ’til I come to this page: