Chapter 22

Captain De Villiers looked at me with a grin on his face. Leah, Olivia, and I just looked at him as if he was saying something silly.

“So, what do I do, grab a shovel and start digging?”

“You’re going to be a busy man! No, I’ve got some toys here on this old tub that would find and pinpoint the location for you.”

“Okay, I know this ship is made to go ice bashing in the Arctic, but how do I get her on dry land?”

“You don’t! My stuff is portable,” Davie laughed. “Just put it in that eggbeater of yours and go sub-hunting. I’ll set you up with Willem. Willem Botha, he’s our resident tech guru.”

“Okay. But I think I need a plan first. That thing can be miles deep in the sand.”

“Let’s hope not more than thirty metres. That’s how deep my toys can play in loose sand. Not so deep in concrete, or clay, or rock, or lead. Around here, you might be lucky and can go seventy to one hundred metres,” Davie said and turned towards the deckhand at the chart table. “Andre, take Captain Windsor to go see Willem Botha.”

“Can we tag along?” Olivia asked.

“Why sure, just don’t rattle Willem too much with your beauty, and don’t flutter your eyelashes at him. It will make him become undone, and stutter so much you won’t understand him,” Davie smirked. I had this image of a skinny, pimple-faced nerd with a lab coat in my mind about Willem Botha, but said nothing, and started to follow Andre off the bridge. Olivia giggled, and pushed Leah to follow me, mumbling: “Age before beauty.” Giggle.

“Can your equipment show me a direction to search in? I asked over my shoulder. “The sub may not be directly under the camp, you know?”

“Go ask Willem those questions. He’ll be delighted to share info with you.”

We reached the den of one Willem Botha, deep on the lower decks of the ship. I was stunned when I saw the guy. My image of him evaporated like fog in the hot sun. Willem was about six foot seven and any yards tall; as broad as the beam of the ship; with a booming voice that could be used as a foghorn, thundering out somewhere from his bushy black beard; with long black hair touching his shoulders. But as the saying goes, the bigger the man, the smaller the heart.

Willem invited us into his brightly lit and well-equipped laboratory, with a smile and lively darting eyes. If the two blonds with me made an impact on him, I wouldn’t know. I was later to find out, just how well an impression one of the blonds did make on him.

“Do come in! Make yourselves at home,” Willem said, and I felt welcome. “The skipper called and said you were on your way down. So, how can I help?”

“Hi, Willem. Call me Ash. Here with me is Leah, and Olivia,” I said as my hand disappeared into his huge paw. I would not like to get on the bad side of this guy. “We would like to use your expertise and some of your equipment. Please enlighten us as to what it is you do?”

“Oh, I’m just playing around with some sonar, radar, and echo-sounding stuff. What is it you guys want to find?”

“Something big and metal, somewhere under the desert sand out yonder on the shore,” I said.

“You’ve come to the right address for that. And I’ve seen that big old whirlybird of yours. I might have something that was left over from this ship’s Arctic days. Come over here,” Willem said and directed us over to a bench in the far corner of his lab. “How big is this metal thing?”

“About ninety metres long, a few metres wide, and about five to eight meters high,” I said. Leah and Olivia looked on, grinning.

“You’re looking for a ship?”

“A World War two German submarine.”

“What the hell is it doing on dry land?”

“Long story, but the short of it is that when it sank, seventy-five years ago, the desert was still a ways off.”

“Desert encroachment! Yes, I know about that phenomenon,” Willem said. “I have the right tool for the job. We used to use it to measure the ice thickness out in the Antarctic. It’s called GPR. Ground Penetrating Radar. I can have it mounted on your helicopter, and as long as you don’t fly higher than 500 feet, you can get a nice colour photo of what is beneath the sand, up to thirty metres, maybe even seventy to a hundred metres deep, depending on the soil.”

“So how do you mount this thing?” Olivia asked.

Willem looked at her for a few seconds as if trying to understand her. “What did you say?” he asked.

“She asked how do you mount this thing?” Leah repeated. Olivia looked a bit pissed off, but shook her head and said slowly: “I did not know my accent is that bad. Everyone else understands me.”

“Nah, I’ll get used to it. It might take me some time, but I’ll work on it. Now, to answer your question,” Willem said, and the twinkle in his eyes betrayed that he was smiling underneath that beard of his. “The control unit goes into the helicopter, and the antenna is mounted under the belly, else you will fry yourself. This is one powerful radar.”

“Both the transmitting and receiving units under the belly of the Puma?” Olivia asked. Willem closed his eyes for a moment and then said: “Yes, you are correct. They are both in one containing housing, about seventy centimetres apart.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said.

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got to show you how to use that unit.”

“Why me?” Olivia asked.

“Because I like you, and you look like you will be able to operate the unit,” Willem said, and Olivia turned away from Willem. I thought I saw her blush. Leah saw it too and chuckled.

“Well, let’s get it mounted, and then you can show us how it works,” I said.

“Good! I’ll go and get the antenna mounted so long,” Willem said looking directly at Olivia. “You can always come along and help if you want, Blue Eyes...”

“Hmph, tsk! You don’t want me around!” Olivia said. Both Leah and I turned away so that Olivia did not see us smirk. “And stop smirking at me!” Evidently, she has head-penetrating radar for eyes.

“Okay, Willem, go do your magic. I’ve got some planning to do,” I said.

“I’ll catch you after lunch and show you the ropes. It’s easy to operate that little gadget,” Willem said. Olivia just looked at him, giving him the evil eye.

We trooped out of the lab. Olivia leading the way. Leah caught my arm, reached up, and whispered:

“Did you feel the tectonic plates shift?”

“I thought there was a slight tremor in the lab,” I whispered back.

“Come on, you two! Lunch awaits and Angie won’t like you hanging on to her boyfriend, Leah...” Olivia said over her shoulder. Nothing escapes that radar of hers. “And stop whispering! It’s for old cows during tea parties.”

Leah giggled, and I snorted.

We made it to lunch and found the rest of our crew there. Angie patted an open place next to her and I went over there and sat down next to her.

“So, what does the camp look like?” Angie asked.

“Yeah, has Major TC and his men settled in?” Friederich asked.

“The camp looks like any old desert camp, and yes, they have settled in. We are invited for a braai later,” I said. “TC asked that we bring Angie and ‘Sticky-icky,’ Lorie along as well.”

“Trust ‘Egghead Doofus,’ the missing link, to call me Sticky-icky!” Lorie said. Everyone laughed.

“Why in the world would he want to call you that?” Gretah asked.

“Something to do with us working together,” Lorie backtracked.

Friederich and Angie knew the true situation and the context of the nicknames. Both just smiled and said nothing.

“That’s not all. Ash, tell them what we discovered,” Leah said.

“Yeah! What, gold or oil?” Gretah asked. “And where is Darya, that sweet girl?”

“Darya stayed behind in the camp. That’s where she is needed and where she wanted to be. Now...” I said. “ ... no oil or gold, or anything that good, but a four-degree variation in the magnetic declination of the base camp.”

“Four degrees! That’s absurd,” Friederich exclaimed.

“Maybe nothing, but we are taking the chopper out there later. The tech guru is mounting a GPR in the Puma at this moment,” I said and looked over at Olivia. “He’ll be giving Olivia a field course in using the gadget.”

“Will not!” Olivia exclaimed, giving me the evil eye.

“Oh, come on, Olivia, that guy is bonkers over you. Give the chap a chance!” Leah fired at Olivia.

“Oh, has Olivia got herself a boyfriend?” Giggle. Angie queried.

“Captain Windsor! May I be dismissed?” Olivia asked, and I just looked at her with a smile.

“No! Eat your food. You require nourishment for that thin figure of yours,” I said and looked away. Leah burst out laughing, and the others at the table just smiled and carried on eating. “Besides, I need you to fly shotgun with me.”

“Oh, am I not good enough anymore?” Leah asked.

“Nope. You’re good as it is, I just don’t want you to discover any more surprises. Besides, I have a feeling Olivia requires the experience in slow flying.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Olivia said and started to pick at her food.

“Hmm...”, was the only comment from Leah.

“So, what does this deviation mean?” Friederich asked.

“That’s why we are taking the Puma, armed with a ground-penetrating radar out to the camp. We need to confirm something.”

“What needs confirming?” Angie asked.

“That the missing submarine is buried under the desert sand, directly under the camp,” I said, and it all went quiet around the table. I was aware of my own breathing, so quiet it got. I felt like a bug under a microscope as all eyes were on me. Only Leah, Olivia, and I were eating, the rest around the table just stared at us.

It was Friederich that recovered first. “How is that possible? The sub sank to the bottom of the sea.”

“Not quite,” I said. “It was seen to sink to the bottom of the sea, but that was seventy-five years ago. In the meantime, the desert has taken up the sea and maybe moved over the sub. She still lies where she sank, just that the sand has washed over the area, and maybe her. The desert has moved the shoreline about eighty to a hundred metres into the sea.”

“So, we’ll need digging equipment?” Gretah asked, looking a little disappointed.

“Yes. Captain Davie said he’s got shovels for everyone,” I joked.

“What about our friends out in Spencer Bay?” Angie asked.

“This afternoon when we’re out flying, I’ll go check and see what they are up to.”

“Can I tag along?” Angie asked, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling at me.

“Just wear your hat and cover your red hair. If we fly over them, they are bound to spy us out with field glasses. I don’t want them to recognize you,” I said.

“Angie’s recommended daily allowance of Ash seems a bit low at this stage,” Gretah deadpanned, then smiled.”

“MOMI!” Angie cried, blushing bright red.

“Leave the child alone Gret. You know how you were at her age,” Friederich chided Gretah, and this time it was Gretah who blushed.

I concentrated on my lunch, not looking up.

“Well, I seem to have finished my lunch,” I said after a while. “Would you gracious lords and ladies pardon me, as I humbly take my leave?”

Giggle. “Trust Ash to quote Shakespeare!” Angie said, and then flattened everyone, even me. “Can you all now see why I adore him?” And for the first time in the presence of her parents, Angie encircled my biceps with both her hands and leaned her head on my shoulder. I was at a loss for words.

Lunch was officially over, and we all got up to let the stewards clear the table. Leah, Olivia, and Friederich followed me out to the hangar, while Angie and Gretah went to Angie’s cabin. I think there will be a mother-daughter talk commencing. Not that it would be a problem. Gretah and Friederich had both reconciled themselves that it would not help to try and persuade Angie to any other conclusion than the one that she had come to herself. As Friederich said before; “Angie set her trap and caught Ash.”

I looked at the little contraption set up in the cabin of the Puma. It looked like a little oversized laptop computer coupled to a steel box not bigger than a midsized suitcase. Underneath the Puma, on her centre belly, there was a funny orange coloured box about one metre long and thirty centimetres wide. It was approximately twenty centimetres high and did not stick out too much. Normally, you would need to look carefully to see it, but the orange colour contrasted hugely with the dull urban camo of the helicopter.

“And this will do the trick?” I asked Willem.

“Yeah. It’s got its own battery power that would last you about thirty minutes or so; that’s why I coupled it up to the utility power bus of the helicopter. It will not use more power than if a winch, or a hoist was fitted.”

“So the bus charges the battery, and the battery will keep us then going for say, two hours?”

“Yes. Alone the battery will last thirty minutes. When it is continuously charged, it will last as long as you have fuel.”

“Good,” I said. “Now can you give Leah a field course in using it?”

“Oh, I thought ‘Blue Eyes’ would be the operator?” Willem asked.

“I will ‘Blue Eyes’ you with my flight boot, somewhere where the sun doesn’t shine!” Olivia said.

“Ouch! Sorry did not want to offend, Blue eyes...” Willem said a little dejected.

Leah giggled, and I snorted. Friederich just smiled and looked at Olivia.

“WHAT! I ain’t nobody’s, Blue Eyes! I have a name!” Olivia exclaimed.

“And one mighty fine name that is too.” Willem tried his luck again.

“Okay! You can call me Miss Olivia,”

“Right on, Miss Olivia. Now, may I show you the finer things of this little box of tricks?”

“NO! I’m flying this sortie together with Captain Windsor. So, save it.” Olivia said and turned away towards the cockpit of the Puma.

“Touchy blue-eyed blond. Maybe I should call her ‘Tee-Bee-Bee’ from now on.”

“Watch it, buster! I heard ya!” Olivia called from the front of the Puma, but I detected a ghost of a smile on her face.

“What’s ‘Tee-Bee-Bee?’” Friederich whispered.

“Touchy Blue-eyed Blond,” Willem whispered back. We all stifled a chuckle.

“Hopeless,” Leah whispered.

“Useless,” Friederich whispered back.

“I heard all ya’ll! Don’t make me come back there...” Olivia said from the cockpit.

“Well, since I don’t have anything assigned, why not show me?” Friederich asked.

“Good, you and Leah go for it; I have some planning to do. I take it we will fly a normal S&R pattern?”

“Yes, not a spiral, but like in an aerial survey or in high altitude mapping. And I suggest that you only operate the unit in one direction. That would give a better understandable picture,” Willem said.

“Okay, fly south to north and use the radar. Then stop the radar, and fly back to the beginning and start over on the next segment of the search area?”

“You got it!”

“Right, we’ll do it that way. Are you coming along, Willem?”

“Yes, I will come along and help in the starting phase.”

“Oh, brother!” Came a voice from the cockpit.

“Keep quiet there inside the peanut gallery!” Willem retorted.

“Hmph, tsk!” Was the snorting answer from up front in the cockpit.

As the afternoon progressed, it appeared that the fog would start to roll in again. I calculated that we had a window of about two hours. There was still the little side mission of finding out what the Sea Swan and her crew were up to.

I will fly out to the south, and detour ten kilometres to the east, flying low. That would put us out of sight of the Sea Swan. We will keep to that distance and fly parallel to the coast to the north, then turn back towards the shore and coming in fast and low along the shore, over the Sea Swan. In that way, we will catch them off guard and give us the benefit of seeing what they are up to. The sun will be to our west, thus on our right side as we will fly over them.

At 14:22 SAST that afternoon we were airborne. I inched the Puma up and side slipped her out into the bay, away from the Ocean Wanderer. As soon as we cleared the helideck, I turned the Puma south and dropped to twenty feet above sea level. Getting forward flight, Olivia retracted the gear. With clean lines and no induced drag, the Puma gathered forward speed and soon we were cruising at 130 knots indicated airspeed.

The rotor wash swirled spray off the sea swells rolling past at just 20 feet underneath us. Even the deep throb of the rotors was lost in the slipstream and only a soft whine of the turbines entered the interior of the aircraft. Just now and then, when an air current caught the fuselage, the blade slap sound could be heard.

Angie sat in the back with her nose glued to the window. Her ginger red hair was pinned tightly against her scalp, and a ridiculous floppy hat covered her head. She looked like a young boy. I suppose pinning her hair was Gretah’s doing. Even those long tresses were piled on top of her head.

From time to time, I saw Angie stealing glances at Willem, as if she was trying to remember something, but I let it pass.

“Take the helm, Olivia,” I said.

“Thanks, Captain. But standby on the controls! The last one I flew was a Sikorsky Blackhawk out in Afghanistan,” Olivia said and took the cyclic and collective.

Looking across the cockpit she said: “I got the plane!” Slowly she placed her feet on the rudder pedals. The Puma wiggled her tail a bit until Olivia got the pressure input right, but we were flying. I suppose she was a little apprehensive to shake the cyclic. That would be the normal confirmation that she had control.

As I said before, this bird is responsive to cyclic input. Slow, tiny control inputs are your best approach. You don’t haul the cyclic over, especially at only 20 feet above the drink. But looking at Olivia, the expression of concentration on her face was priceless.

“Go left heading 090 and climb, altitude to 200 feet,” I said. “Thereby you miss the dirt, and we will still be low enough for our surprise visit to old Max.”

Olivia looked at me, then back out the side screen on her side. Judging the height like I knew she did in Afghanistan, she gave left rudder input and slowly moved the cyclic about one inch left, lifting the collective about two inches. The Puma responded with a lazy turn to the left, and as it banked through twenty degrees, the rotors made their distinctive blade slap sound in the changing airflow. Nicely executed coordinated turn. Through the windshield, the miles of empty desert dunes sprang into view.

“Good! You’re getting the hang of it,” I said into the intercom.

“Just, I think I might have left my tummy out on the other side!” Willem quibbled.

“Shut up in the peanut gallery!” Olivia retorted back.

“Yes, Sir, Miss Olivia!” Willem chuckled.

“OOo!” Olivia said, flashing a stare into the backward-looking mirror on the overhead panel.

I sat back in my seat, relaxing. Olivia had over 3000 hours on various helicopters, mostly in Sikorsky Blackhawks. It showed in her handling of the Puma. I also saw that Friedrich was itching to get a go at the controls. Angie had in the meantime leaned back in her seat, still looking out the side window. Our turning point was coming up.

“Go left heading 350 and maintain 200 feet,” I said. Again, a flawless execution of the turn. This time, no blade slap. Excellent. “Go twenty klicks, and I will take over for the final two turns, and the reconnaissance run.”

“Rodger that!” Olivia said, a little more relaxed now. I’ll make a Puma pilot out of her yet; the United States can keep their Blackhawks and Seahawks. Mind you, a UH-60 Blackhawk is flying for “Working On Fire,” as a fire bomber in South Africa. A first for South Africa, and only the second Blackhawk to go commercial outside of the United States. Hmm...

“Captain! I tested the radar. We can go seventy metres deep in this soil,” Willem said, and as I looked back at him, I saw Angie looking at him with a frown between her eyes.

“Exquisite! We’re bound to find something,” I said.

“What about some pirate doubloons in a ship’s chest?” Angie asked and giggled.

“Don’t get your hopes up Ginger Biscuit! You may just find a rusted-up old aircraft that went down here somewhere a couple of years ago,” Willem said.