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PROLOGUE Alcatraz is on our port beam, Angel Island is on our starboard quarter, and I can see Harding rock as we shape up for the Golden Gate Bridge. I am the bow look out on a 900 foot high speed container ship, and I have the best job in the world. As I look up I can see people waving. I acknowledge with caution, as a natural instinct honed by time. I look upward for that pimple faced thirteen year old kid ready to let go a brick just to see if he can hit a ship. Once we clear the Golden Gate, I will secure the anchors.head aft, and once more have that calming feeling of having left what is knwon, into the unknown on the horizon... The year was 1967, "The Summer Of Love". and it would be my first time sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge on an out-bound ship from San Francisco. As a Navy boot, fresh out of San Diego's training center, I was awestruck by the wheelhouse of my new assignment, a U. S. Navy Destroyer Escort. Most impressive, were the low intensity red lights, that were everywhere highlighting sophisticated electronic equipement, that to me, could have been on a space ship. Orders were shouted to the boatswain mate, and the helmsman clutching a huge polished chrome wheel. Then without warning.... ISBN 1-4241-8251-4
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