“I admire anyone who’s not afraid to dive. You must be very knowledgeable about tanks and all that,” Bob said. “I tried scuba diving once on a Key West holiday, but I’m afraid it wasn’t for me.”

“I prefer mountain climbing. That’s where I really get a high, no pun intended.”

“Your father tells me you’ve traveled a great part of the world by freighter. What was that like?”

Zack placed his elbows on the table. “I was one dumb kid when they first hired me and apprenticed me to the ship’s mechanic. Boy, was I scared out of my mind, the noise down there, the size of those engines.”

“So you’re a mechanic,” Bob said.

“Nope. I was all thumbs, and they got rid of me darn quick. I went up top to load freight. Not a glamorous job, but at least I could see the sky.” He glanced at his father. “And I didn’t stay long on any one ship. We’d hit a city, say Singapore, and I’d sling my knapsack over my shoulder and find work on shore for a while.”

“What kind of work?”

“Loading ships, busing in restaurants, things like that, enough to get by for a time while I explored the area. I’d hike and sightsee, enjoy the food, the music, the girls, then hop another freighter and on to the next port. I pretty much traveled the world that way, except for Norway. For some reason, I never did get to Norway, but I hear the fjords are beautiful. And I never really explored Morocco. Sick as a dog when I hit that port. I always wanted to go back.”

“Sounds exciting. Lots of adventures.” Bob beckoned the waiter for another beer.

“Yes, it was great adventure, lots of excitement.” Zack nodded. “Excitement can get into your blood like a drug. You grow to crave it.”

“I can imagine. Travel, as in the army, can do the same. Once you’re out, you feel odd staying in one place for a long time. But if you wait it out, you can get over it, just like you can beat the drug habit.” They were silent for a few moments. Then he asked, “What would you say you learned from all that travel?”

“That the world is one hell of a magnificent place, and most of us live our lives in one small corner of it, and like old Mr. Thoreau said, ‘lead lives of quiet desperation.’ Also, although people look and act differently, underneath we’re all the same.”

From Max’s point of view this was going nowhere. His son liked to hike, climb mountains, and meet new people. “Given your choice, son, what is it you’d like to do now that you’re back in the States?”