Chapter 6: Our Maiden Voyage

We put a pretty good hole in the larder by hosting a launching party. We laid in four cases of champagne for forty people. I grilled a lot of meat while Angie prepared salads and desserts. Come morning the place looked like a war zone! Bodies lay everywhere! The shop coffeemaker sure got a workout by the time everyone had disembarked.

We cleaned up and headed out to see how she performed at sea and to learn what we forgot to stock.

We took on a few hundred pounds of fuel then headed for the nearest big port to fill up: Savannah Georgia. While we filled up on diesel I paid a visit to the port authority offices. I laid my papers on the counter so they knew I was the real deal.

"I've got my class 3 firearms license and I'm legal right down to the waterline. I'm looking for a couple M79 grenade launchers and eight cases of M406 HE grenades. Can I purchase them and can I purchase them here?"

I got a hairy eyeball out of him then a smile.

"Since you're not trying to sneak around or deal under the table, I'll set you up. See, the Marines have to get rid of their M79s and ammo. Call this number and someone will help you out."

Damn. That set me back on my heels. The Marines must have really been in a real snit, having to trade off their 40mm grenades for measly 25mm grenades that had half the range. I'd be pissed too. I made the call and got an invite to dock at the Tripoli Street wharf on Parris Island, just up the coast.

I no longer owned a set of dress greens to wear but I sure as hell saluted the base commander as he paid a visit. I presented credentials for Angie and myself, and gave him and his XO a tour of the ship. When he saw the spare M2 barrels and ammo crates he sprang a small smile. He seemed to approve of the Garands as well.

"Let's see where you've got your Ma Deuce deployed, soldier."

I led him up the gangway to the wheelhouse roof. I unlocked the pod, kicked the pins free and stepped back.

He nodded. "What's the timing?"

"Twenty rounds per minute sir. It'll fire forever with the heavy barrel."

He nodded and turned his head, taking in the entire roof. "You need side armor. With only one weapon, multiple attacking boats could overwhelm your station. Unless you have a turret or something like that you're going to end up sucking hind tit." Shit. He was right. We needed to get back to the docks to get the roof reinforced. Then an enclosed turret could be installed. 1/4" hardened steel over 3/8 steel plate would do fine. Angled walls would deflect anything but a shaped charge unlike a tin can shape.

"Yes Sir. We'll get back to port to get the wheelhouse roof reinforced and I'll get a motorized turret up here soonest. False security is dangerous."

He nodded. He took the clipboard from his XO, wrote a few lines and handed it back. "Keep your berth here for the night. Come morning be prepared to take on a few pallets of arms."

He saluted briefly and left. I knew he was grinning to himself as he left. Someone was going to take it up the ass-- it wasn't him and it wasn't us, though.

About 6:00 AM a Marine squad that had 'cadre' written all over them requested permission to come aboard. They had a 4x4 truck that was loaded to the gills. I was presented a clipboard to sign off on, and that was that.

I used our gin-pole hoist to bring aboard six pallets. I inventoried twenty British Starstreak laser guided surface-to-air missiles with five aiming/firing assemblies, fifteen U.S. FIM92 Stinger surface-to-air missiles, two new-in-cosmoline M79 grenade launchers, eight cases of M406 40x46mm HE grenades for same, two cases of baseball grenades and eight ammo cans of M903.50 caliber sabot rounds (SLAP) for the Browning M2 machine gun.

"WHERE THE FUCK WERE WE GOING TO PUT IT ALL?" I screamed to myself. I sure as hell wasn't going to put THIS in my goddamned journal to Outdoors Magazine!

Angie was laughing so hard she about pissed her pants. "Man, did he unload on us or what? That goddamned commander is a shit-stirrer of the first water."

I had no doubt with all of Parris Island to use as a sponge he could declare all those munitions expended in training.

Man, I had some reading to do! There was no sense in owning higher-order arms if I didn't know how to deploy them. After all, I didn't want to disappoint the commander ... and I didn't want to shatter our hull by detonating a round too close.

Since the Starstreaks were laser guided we could use them as surface-to-surface weapons but the Stingers were another matter. They were fire-and-forget heat seekers. I didn't know if the exhaust of an attacking watercraft would be hot enough for the Stinger's sensor to lock onto. I suppose it was a matter of differential--how cold the surface water was versus how hot the exhaust. An early morning attack or an attack using outboard motors over deep water would be optimal but that sort of thing was never up to the defending party. For the mean time I'd reserve the Stingers for air defense only.