NAVY RECRUIT MOCKS "DIRTY OLD JANITOR'S" TATTOOS - ROOM GOES DEAD SILENT We were in SEAL training, twenty-one of us thinking we were gods because we'd aced BUD/S sims. This shuffled-in speaker, Dale Harlan, looked like he'd washed up from a shipwreck - thinning gray hair, stained t-shirt, arms a mess of chaotic ink under burn scars. "Why the tattoos, old man? Lose bar bets?" I called from the back, smirking for laughs. The room snickered. Dale didn't blink. Just sipped his stained coffee cup, le