Chapter 15

I did! I did! I did find something.

The Lagoon came with dive gear. I suited up, balanced my weight and let out air so I would sink. Just enough negative buoyancy. I dropped down the thirty feet and blinked.

Not what I expected. I was expecting a brass cannon. What I found was similar ... well ... it was long and round ... but it wasn’t brass and for sure not a cannon. A rusty crunchy torpedo. Complete.

I was very careful ascending.

When I called the Coast Guard I decided that ditz was better than intelligent. I wouldn’t have to be formal.

“Coast Guard, calling Freeport Coast Guard.”

“Coast Guard.” A woman’s voice.

“Hi.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m Selene.”

“Good Afternoon, Selene.”

“Umh ... I think you guys are probably who I want ... but maybe Army Ordnance Disposal might want in on this.”

Sudden silence except for the woosh of indrawn breath. The Gulf coast had had a rash of beached mines. I remember reading that in an online paper.

“Go ahead Selene.” A different voice ... a command voice.

“I’m slowly backing away from what looks like a rusty torpedo.”

“What does the suspected torpedo look like?”

“A long tube with two bronze propellers. It’s maybe 20 inches in diameter and 20 feet long.”

“Yes ma’am. We’re interested.”

“The location is 28.768156, -95.618628.”

“Just outside the ICW?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me ... are there houses near?”

“Yes. There are a couple ... no ... three pickups full of teenagers. Volleyball net, bunch of kids. Looks like a picnic party.

“Whoops ... make that 20 pickups and a whole bunch of kids ... graduation party?”

Silence from the other end.

“Now my crew is interested ... a pickup with three kegs just drove up.”

“Cutter on the way, ma’am.”

“Speedo’s and tiny bikinis ... they’re in the water. Ten or 11 kids in the water ... the object is 30 feet down pretty much right below ‘em.”

“Shit ... sorry ma’am.”

I kept backing away. I was probably 500 hundred yards off shore. The eletronics were still running. Then the warning bell clattered. I passed over a huge metalic object... 300 feet long 20 wide laying on it’s side in about 200 feet of water. The printout looked like a submarine.

On the radio, “Cutter is about six miles out.”

“Thank you ... I just passed over a wrecked sub.”

“How?”

I knew the answer before he asked.

“Magnetometer, side scan sonar, graphic printer, other stuff. The readout shows a definite conning tower and a deckgun. Sub.”

“Pursuant to US Regulations...” and here he rattled off a bunch of legal terms, that I knew nothing about, “you are commanded and required to remain where you are until such time as Commander CG Tiger Shark releases you.”

“Yes Sir ... stick around ... I understand.”

Every pair of binoculars available on the Lagoon watched the fun on the beach. It was a riot. The cutter launched a CG Rib boat and the local branch of the State Police invaded the party simultaneously ... kids everywhere.

The problem with coastal sand islands? No where to go.

As I understand it ... the torpedo was detonated at sea ... I didn’t get to see it.

As for the sub, a Catalina PBY crew was posthumously credited with a 1943 kill ... finally.

The sub location was withheld to keep looters at bay.

After a rigorous inspection, my graphic paperwork was confiscated and I was sent on our merry way. I and my crew were enjoined to keep quiet about the location of the minelayer submarine until such time as was approved by the powers that be.

Not MY Powers ... the government powers.

Seven thought it was funny.