Bruce J. Schick has produced a tidy, little book that at first glance is nothing more than sea stories from an old diesel sailor. What makes the book such an interesting read is the cryptic style of description. It seems to come straight from the shoulder and Bruce isn't afraid to give his opinion about the many submarine officers in his career, the chain of command and the Navy bureaucracy.

He had difficulty in his naval career putting up with the petty politics that engulfs an officer when he reaches an O-4 pay grade. As an admiral's aid he did just fine, because he had the good fortune to work for a generous and competent person who knew what the Navy meant to those under him. As a junior officer on the Irex he bounced along the learning curve gaining competency in submarines. As commanding officer of the Clamagore he found himself in a constant battle with superiors who made operational demands without regard for the welfare of the men on the boats.

He was married and thought that he had a responsibility to his family as well as to the Navy. Admiral Rickover didn't see it that way and as the diesel boats disappeared from the fleet so did Bruce Schick.

Bruce describes his marriage in terms that warrant sincere respect. His wife was beside him all the way. In submarine school, New London she raised kids in the string of red brick married officers' quarters that remain on the submarine base to this day. Through the head-down-and-ass-up study of system drawings he shared new-born baby chores with his wife and made the best of minimal comfort. The reader feels the zing of romance mixed with the daily grind of learning submarines.

It isn't the dangers of diesel submarining that makes Bruce's story a good one. It's the constant good humor and high-jinx of the men who rode the diesel boats. Every page is loaded with chuckles and every submariner who reads Bruce's book will say to himself, "Yeah, that's the way it was."