The VA
thinks I have PTSD from Vietnam. Everyone notices that I am
depressed. I can't seem to concentrate. I lose the remote to my TV and
don't care.
Suddenly I want to go to Ilak Island in the Alaskan Aleutian chain. It's at
the end of the world. And no one lives there. But because of that island I
exist.
I cash
in my retirement and build a concrete and steel submarine. It's not very
big but it houses my mini-B24 "bomber" plane made out of plywood and capable
of taking off from and landing on water. I spend the last of my money
topping
the sub off with diesel fuel and then as the bad weather closes in submerge
and
begin my 1800 mile trek across the north Pacific toward the frigid Bering
sea.