I met Doug Roberts at a critical moment, when I was young and beginning to think seriously about what I was going to do with my life. The fact that he was a fictitious lieutenant on a fictitious ship in a war that
had ended two years before I was born was of little consequence, because in the pages of Thomas Heggen’s novel Mr. Roberts I discovered a part of my soul that ultimately took me “down to the sea in ships.” Mr. Roberts allowed me to escape from the bleak urban canyons of the inner city and took me to the vast waters of the Pacific “planed to perfect smoothness, and in the emergent light . . . bronze-colored, and not yet blue.”
As I traveled the decks and compartments of the USS Reluctant and stood my first watches, I sensed the camaraderie of a crew, felt a sense of purpose no matter how mundane, and shared the deep frustration Doug Roberts felt in knowing the war was passing him by. That short novel set my course for life and gave me some of the instruments with which to navigate.
More than just an introduction to an enticingly different world, Mr, Roberts is also a study in leadership, a series of case studies in what to do and what not to do when entrusted with the authority and awesome responsibility of rank. It serves as inspiration, warning, and challenge and is made real by the intrusion of human frailties and, perhaps just as important, is made palatable by the embellishment of humor. When the novel was transformed into a stage play, the first performance ran 20 minutes longer than planned because the audience laughed so much.
Much more than escapist humor, however, Mr. Roberts bridges that perceived gulf between comedy and tragedy in a way that leaves the reader acutely aware of the complexity of human nature. The characters evoke a wide array of emotions as they joust with this contentious thing we call “life.” Their shortcomings ensure that this is not an allegory, yet they are an endearing bunch (with one exception) who make us care and share and shun despair.
Mr. Roberts is a “war story” in that it takes place in the midst of the greatest conflict in history, yet in most ways it is the antithesis of the usual war story. For all but a brief but powerful moment, the Japanese enemy is distant and vague, and the real enemies are much more immediate, personal, and complicated. The normal terrors of war are supplanted by tedium and frustration. And while Doug Roberts is not short on physical courage—he is more than willing to confront danger; in fact, he is determined to do so—it is his moral courage that is most defining, providing a denouement that allows both nobility and futility to coexist in a way that leaves the reader at once stunned and uplifted.
The USS Reluctant and her crew are just tiny cogs in the machinery of a world at war, and their trials and travails are presented with contagious humor that draws us to them as we are to a mirror, comfortable with the familiar but also hoping to find redeeming qualities in what we see.
Doug Roberts was my shipmate throughout my Navy career. I often thought of him when faced with difficult leadership decisions and recalled his foibles at times when life needed perspective. Mr. Roberts helped me be a better naval officer, and for that I will always be grateful.