After causing a series of minor catastrophes, a World War II motor machinist's mate found himself manning a 200-foot emergency submarine fueling barge two miles offshore—alone.
It had been three months since I was assigned to Potshot, a U.S. Navy term for its base on the Exmouth Gulf, 800 miles north of Perth, Australia, in World War II. I was dumped there unceremoniously with numerous other Sailors, and the commanding officer's disquieting words bit at our heels: "Keep your noses clean. Stay out of trouble."
