The story is dedicated to my wife Josephine and our three daughters, Nora Helene, Linda Karen, and Randi Jean. The narrative would not have been completed but for their patience-and encouragement. In time, perhaps our six grandchildren will appreciate the adventures as they ponder Gandfather’s accent.

Jon Veiberg
Raleigh, N.C.,
February 1996 

It is a given that the title carries with it an aura of ostentation. However, Homer’s Odyssey appears to be a story about a fictitious journey, if not also a fictitious character. The title was chosen because I still remain somewhat in awe of having come through the entire time of World War II with no other apparent damage than the loss of most of my hair.

This narrative is written from memory only. Other stories about the same crew, or crews, likely would be different in content or detail about the time we were together on a ship ending up at Casablanca.

Recollections of events and experiences, I believe, are rooted in ‘meeting’ cultures depicted in travelogues so much a part of my teen years. Cargo ships, foreign tourist liners, English, French, and German, war ships calling on our little town, during those years, also added to a wondering about the outside world.

The writing of the narrative began with a failing golf game. I had ruptured a bicep tendon in my right shoulder. Fifty yards of water in the middle of a 145-yard par three began taking too many balls. Our youngest daughter Randi urged me to obtain a small word processor and the narrative began to take shape. (My golf game improved too; my first hole-in-one, same hole).

Jon