I never liked the ocean, too much water all around if you ask me. But somehow I managed to end up in the navy, that’s life for you.

A little bit of poverty, a little bit of trouble with the law, add a friendly recruitment officer ready to clean your record and the rest of the story tells itself.

It wasn’t a bad job really. The pay was meager but regular and you got clothing, three meals a day and fairly decent lodging. Only thing keeping it from being perfect were all those orders to follow and the officers that yelled them.

Surprisingly enough, I managed to be pretty good at following orders. Not intelligent enough to be officer material, but still good enough to climb the lower rungs of the command ladder. Yes, life was treating me pretty good for a while, or at least less like shit than usual which was already an improvement. I should have known it wouldn’t last.

I didn’t know it at the time, but things began to go downhill with the good news of my promotion. Everything about it sounded like a great deal. A pay raise, more shore leave time, better quarters, it all sounded really sweet, until I read what my new assignment was. The submarine corps.

Long story short… I’m sure high command now has some really sound scientific evidence that rookie captains with more ego than experience and underwater vessels don’t mix well. Oh, and also that ordering “surface” while a destroyer is maneuvering above you is definitely a pretty bad idea.

And that’s how I ended up – or rather down – here, all alone in the dark and listening to the hull creak and groan under the rising pressure. What can I say? Someone had to manually open the hatch, the electrics were busted and it really wasn’t fair for the guys who survived the crash to stay trapped in here because of a single lousy switch.

Don’t look at me like that, I’m no selfless hero. They all had families waiting for them, I’m the only one who won’t be missed by anybody… you do the math.

Anyway, don’t feel too bad about me, I might still get lucky. The air might run out before this tin can gets crushed. Always look on the bright side of death, huh?

And you know something? It’s really kinda nice here. Save for the ship’s dying moans and the occasional popping rivet, it’s really quiet and peaceful.

I never liked the ocean, too much water all around.

But damn, I wish I could have a beer.