PROLOGUE

What follows is an original story based primarily upon the 1954 movie, "The Caine Mutiny."

Some incidents in this story are taken not from the movie, but from the novel on which the movie is based. In the novel, for example, Willie Keith was "The Demerit King" at Midshipman School. After the trial, Keith went on to become the final captain of the Caine, and it was during his command that the Caine was struck and seriously damaged by a kamikaze. (Actually, in the novel, the ship was attacked by two kamikazes on separate occasions.)

Some elements of the novel appear in the movie, but in altered form. In the novel, for example, was a character named Urban. It was Urban who had his shirttail out, and it was Urban who testified to being scared during the typhoon. But Urban was basically absent on the movie, and his actions and attributes were assigned to multiple other characters.

The novel makes it clear that the Yellowstain incident occurred at Kwajalein, at a particular site; but Kwajalein is not mentioned by name in the movie.

The movie and the novel are different in many other ways as well. Both versions of the story have their strong points. In many ways, the writing of the movie is sharper and more dramatic. The acting in the movie was exceptional for its time; for many actors, this movie showcases their best performances of their careers.

It seems likely to me that there are many elements of the movie, some not present in the novel, that were deliberately put into the movie by the director or the writer, perhaps to try to suggest things happened in a particular way or that there is something unusual going on behind the scene. This story calls out some of those elements, and imagines what the significance of those elements might be.

By the same token, some elements of the novel, including some incidents that made Queeg look quite evil, were omitted from the movie. This too seems to me to be deliberate; the movie suggests that it is not so clear-cut that Queeg is a bad man.

Those familiar with the movie will realize that some of what is in this story is from the movie, and some of it is extrapolated from the movie. Some of it is based on the novel. And some of it is just made up. I leave it to the reader to identify which parts are which.

This story does not avoid one of the problems with the movie, namely, that Humphrey Bogart was too old to play Captain Queeg.

The name of the writer in my story, Mark Neuhow, is a name with multiple meanings. He listened to people tell their stories (he would "mark" them), and so he was aware of what other witnesses to the events said (he "knew how" they told their stories). But this name is also an anagram, which someone clever would be bound to discover.

Nearly every incident from the book and the movie is reported from memory. There is a certain benefit to this, in that the characters in the story tell their tales from memory, and their memories (like mine) might be incorrect. Even so, in the event any serious errors have been made, they may be addressed in due course.

One tale in the story, that pertaining to the machine gun, has a basis in fact, and was related to me by a stenographer who recorded courts martial during WWII.

1. Talk with a Best Friend.

Steve Maryk was finishing his dinner— leftover fried chicken— when his telephone rang. Maryk's hands were greasy. Without thinking, he dropped what remained of a chicken leg on his plate and wiped his hands on his trousers before reaching for the telephone receiver. He uttered a mild expletive upon realizing what he'd just done, then picked up the receiver and hoisted it to his right ear.

Maryk tried to sound calm. "Hello."

"Hi Steve, it's Willie Keith."

Maryk's sour mood brightened at once. "Hey! Willie! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Steve, how are you doing?"

"Pretty well, I think."

"Hope I didn't catch you during dinner."

"Don't worry about it. What's up?

"How's Newark?"

"I'm getting along. Not too many complaints, except for the noise at night. How's Princeton?"

"About the same. Maybe I'm getting old, but the students at the university look like a bunch of kids to me."

Maryk laughed. "That's because they are a bunch of kids! Hey, Willie, you heard I started that position as a dispatcher, right?"

"Yeah, you mentioned a couple of months ago that you had the job lined up. How's it working out? Do you like the job?"

"I do, I do like it. The people are nice, my boss is appreciative of what I do."

"Well, that's good, that's great, actually!"

"How's May?"

"She's doing all right. I've told you she's expecting next August, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Congratulations again. Be sure to give her my best."

"I will. Hey, Steve," Keith cleared his throat, "the reason I'm calling, I wanted to ask you something. Have you gotten any telephone calls or letters recently from this guy who claims to be a writer from San Diego?"

The joy drained from Maryk's voice. "No telephone calls, no. But I got a couple of letters from some guy this month, last month, too. His name was Neuhow, I think. He said he was a writer, said he was working on a book about the Caine. I threw the letters away. Is that the guy you're talking about?"

"Yeah, that's the guy, Neuhow. I got a letter from him a few weeks ago. I wrote back to him and told him that I didn't want to talk about the Caine. And that's pretty much all I wrote, 'Dear Mr. Neuhow, thank you for your inquiry, I don't want to talk about the Caine, Willis S. Keith.'"

"That's exactly how I feel," Maryk sighed. "Better that the whole business be forgotten. Why anybody'd want to write a book about the Caine, I have no idea. I can't imagine the Navy would want to have the tale told."

"Well, Steve, this Neuhow has stopped writing to me, and has taken to calling me on the telephone, long distance. He says he's coming to New Jersey to meet me. And, Steve, he wants to meet you, too."

Maryk was temporarily speechless. "No dice," he said eventually.

"You know, I told him that's what you'd say, exactly," Willie snickered nervously. "But, Steve, he's very persistent. Persistent, but polite, too. And Steve, I get the sense that this guy..." Keith paused.

"You get a sense this guy, what?"

"That he wants to tell the Caine story fairly."

Maryk snorted. "That'll be the day! Everybody else who's told the story has made it all about Steve Maryk being one lucky bastard who ought to have been strung up from the yardarm."

"I know. They also say that Willie Keith ought to be swinging right next to him. Steve, listen. This Neuhow says he's talked to most of the main witnesses to the Caine events."

"I doubt that."

"That's what he told me, swear to God; he also says the only really important people he hasn't had a chance to talk to... are us. There's something about the way he talks, too. He's very matter-of-fact, you know? No nonsense."

Maryk thought he detected something in Keith's voice, something troubling. Maryk had resolved that he would never tell his story, not even to friends and family, and certainly not to any writer who might divulge the unpleasant tale to the world. Maryk had been fairly certain that Keith felt the same way. But there was something in Keith's tone, something that suggested that Keith had been giving serious consideration to the unthinkable. Maryk decided to find out for sure; so he asked, point-blank: "Did you agree you'd talk to him, Willie?"

Keith didn't respond right away, so Maryk guessed the answer before being told.

"Yes, I did," Keith admitted. "Or rather, what I told him was that I would agree to meet with him in person, and that I would listen to what he had to say. I didn't exactly promise to tell him anything."

"Jesus, Willie."

"Steve," Keith's voice took on a note of pleading, "I want to ask you something. I want you to talk to him with me. I promised him I'd ask you."

Maryk rubbed his eyes. "Willie, for the love of heaven."

"Look, he's coming here, to New Jersey, by train, at his own expense. I mean, after he's spent all that time and all that money to come here, I just don't think I could tell him to shove off."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Willie."

"He wants to meet us both. I think he's on the level. Come on, Steve. If you meet the guy and find that you don't want to talk to him, you and I will tell him we don't want to talk. We'll tell him together."

Maryk sighed. He took a deep breath and sighed again. Willie Keith was one of his his best friends. How could he tell him no?

"What we do, we do together, Steve," Keith prompted.

Maryk saw no easy way out. "Okay, Willie," Maryk relented. "Chances are, I'm just going to tell him that he wasted his time and money coming out here; but okay, Willie, you and me, we'll meet him together."

"Thanks, Steve."

"Yeah." Maryk sighed. "I suppose I'll have to ask for some time off work, and I'll have to find a way to get down to see you in Princeton. Maybe I'll take a bus, I guess."

"No, you won't. Neuhow told me he isn't coming to Princeton, he's coming to Newark."

For a moment, Maryk was speechless once again. "You mean, he's coming to me? Not to where you are, but to where I am?"

"Well, yeah. What he told me was that his train went to Newark, and he asked me if I could meet him in Newark. I said sure, I could come up to Newark. He told me he's reserved a room at the Prism Hotel, and he'll be there on Thursday night. He wants to meet with the two of us on Friday morning. Room 518, he said."

Maryk was immediately suspicious. "Willie, the Prism Hotel is only five blocks from where I live. That can't be a coincidence, that this guy gets a room at the hotel that's probably the one that's closest to me. Did you tell him about the Prism?"

"No, I didn't. He told me that he had a reservation there. But I'll bet you you're right, Steve, it isn't a coincidence at all. I'll bet he really wants to talk to us, and I think he's going the extra mile to make it convenient for you. I think he wants to get on your good side."

"Willie, whether it's convenient or not, I just can't see him on Friday. I have to be at work at eleven."

"Well, I told him I could catch a train and meet him at nine. Could you meet him with me at nine in the morning?"

Maryk snickered, "Do you think he'd be able to interview me in an hour's time?"

"He told me he's staying until Monday. You don't work weekends, do you, Steve?"

Maryk moaned. "No, I don't work on weekends, but I sure don't want to spend my Saturday or Sunday talking about the Caine." Maryk took as deep breath. "Listen, Willie, here's what I'll do: I'll go with you to meet this guy on Friday morning. And I'll make it clear that I can't stay long, I have to go to work. But I'll listen to what he has to say."

"Okay. Okay, that's fine, Steve. Let's give him an hour to try to convince us to tell our stories, and if he doesn't convince us..."

"Which I'm pretty sure he won't."

"... Then we can say thanks and so long."

"We say that," Maryk repeated.

"Yes, we. Either we both decide to share our stories or we both don't."