Arrested during lunch

"It's not just a job it's an adventure." For years that was the navy's recruiting slogan. I suppose it was a good one, at least good enough to entice me to enlist. Well the bottle of whiskey the recruiter and I drank in the back of the office after he said "To hell with it Vern, let's have a drink." had a lot to do with it too.
Nearing the end of my career I was being transferred to shore duty as an instructor. My next duty station would be in Lakehurst New Jersey where I would be training sailors, marines, civilians and foreign nationals in basic security techniques. Terrorism was starting to rear its ugly head and the military was a very tempting target. Having served ten years in Asia and completed a very successful tour as a Chief-Master-At-Arms I along with thirty or so others was chosen. I just had one little stop before I started my instructor duty. I had to learn to be an instructor at, you guessed it; Instructor Training School being taught on a small base in a small state Rhosde Island.
I left San Diego on a Greyhound bus heading east. I left behind a wife, two kids and a very shakey marriage. Three days, three thousand miles and one sore butt later I arrived in Rhode Island. As luck would have it I arrived on 4th of July weekend. Three days of wandering around a nearly deserted navy base gave one lots of time to reflect. The best place to reflect was on the waterfront and this navy base had lots of that. It also had lots of wild geese that made walking anywhere near where they had been a risky and smelly business."So much for reflection. Where does one get a beer around here?"
Tuesday morning school started. The class consisted of about twenty First Class and Chief Petty Officers from various rates. We met the instructors and got a basic idea of what we would be doing for the next month.
Week one and two flew by pretty quickly. Our primary instructor was a young female navy lieutenant. Did I mention that she was attractive? That was one of the two things that get a sailors attention. The other is a cold beer, and we found a bar just outside the base that had cheap cold beer. Within a few days that watering hole became the unofficial hangout of us soon to be navy instructors.
Late night drinking and sitting through a morning of instruction can make a sailor ready for a little nap. Luckly our instructors unofficially understood such things. Around 11 :00 we would be assigned a small reading to accomplish over lunch and we would reassemble at 13:00. With a little arithmitic even one not too good at math, quickly figured out that minus a five minute walk to the barracks, five minutes walk back to class.....there was time for a nice long nap!
It happened at the beginning of the third week. Listening to a local radio station I heard a short sound-bite. A woman had been shot on Saturday, and the suspect was believed to be a sailor.
Some days things just keep getting worse. By noon I had been critiqued as not having given a very good practice lesson, gotten a nasty letter from my wife and a threatening one from a bill collector. I needed a quick drink and a little nap for lunch. Instead I got arrested for murder!
As had become my habit I went back to the barracks for lunch. The Chief-Petty-Officers had the second floor to themselves. The rooms were arranged so that three two men rooms shared a common lounge.
Quickly I climbed the flight of stairs, went through the lounge, closed the door behind me and began pouring a stiff one out of the whiskey bottle on my dresser.
Before the coctail reached my lips the door flew open and two guys in civilian clothes rushed in with guns drawn.
"Freeze, you're under arrest for murder."
"Holy s____." I wondered what was going on. In a matter of seconds I was spread eagle up against the wall, searched and handcuffed.
After I was safely restrained the two men identified themselves as agents of the Naval Investigative Service, forerunners of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.
Just like television cops they pulled a little card out and started readeing me my rights. The rights warning started with a fill in the blank.
"Chief-Petty-Officer Jones you are being arrested for the murder of.........You have the right to remain silent and so forth.
"Do you want to make a statement," they asked after completating the Miranda warning.
"Hell, yeah I want to make a statement you idiots. I'm not Chief Jones. If you'll look at my name tag and ID card even you will figure that out."
It turned out that Chief Jones was assigned to one of the other rooms that shared the lounge. It also turned out he was last seen Sunday morning carring a suitcase to his car and was last seen leaving the base for parts unknown.
Eventually the NIS agents puts their guns away, uncuffed me and offered a pretty insincere appology. The worst part was I missed my nap and none of my fellow students would believe my story when I got back to class. All afternoon I just kept telling myself things would get better and the after class beer would sure be nice. They sure were, all twenty of them.