The Adventurous Ero Path of a Sailor

Lt. Grover Burbank kept glancing back and forth between the open waters and the radar screen. The commanding officer of the small patrol boat Leopold, Burbank was trying to find the source of the radar disturbance that had sent them out past the jetty of Quiller's Cove and into the open bay in the middle of the night.

Something was out there but so far their radar was only picking up broken signals and their spotlight had found nothing.

"Sir, is it possible it was just a fish?" Burbank's deputy, Lt. Milligan, shuffled to his side.

"I don't think so, Lieutenant. That radar isn't supposed to pick up wildlife. My gut feeling tells me something's in these waters."

Milligan shrugged and went back to operating the controls.

Burbank silently cursed his luck at being so disturbed from his sleep to chase after a ghost signal. Especially given the events of that morning with the attack, the last thing he wanted was to be going after a blip caused by faulty equipment.

Yet this radar system was supposed to be top of the line, and he had a bad feeling that something was out here waiting for them in the deep.

The Leopold drifted slowly through the quiet night waters. Milligan steered them off to port once they cleared the jetty before swinging wide to starboard. It made one circle of the entire bay before coming almost to a stop not far from the jetty. The radar was dead and it was eerily silent apart from the small boat's engine.

"Whatever it is, it seems to have left," said Milligan.

Burbank sighed and let the spotlight drop from its position on the water's horizon. In doing so, the spotlight swung down to focus on the narrow strip of water about a hundred yards out from the patrol boat's port side.

It couldn't have landed in a more fortuitous spot. Burbank's eyes merely glanced at the water until he did a double take, focusing on the illuminated spot to see something long and narrow slicing through the waves and heading straight for them.

Grabbing hold of the spotlight, he pulled it closer to the ship, matching the path of whatever was headed their way. He nearly pissed himself when he saw what was coming and raised his voice to yell at Milligan.

"Torpedo to port side! Full steam ahead now!!"

Milligan reacted quickly and for that, Burbank said a silent prayer. The engine of the tiny patrol boat roared to life and lurched forward nearly causing the both of them to lose their balance. Burbank kept the spotlight on the torpedo as it narrowed the distance between them.

Fifty yards.

Thirty yards. Due to hit them amidships.

Fifteen yards. Now aligned to the propellers.

Five yards. Right near the stern.

Burbank flinched in preparation for the explosion that never came. The boat remained calm and rocked gently in the open waters. Opening his eyes, he looked at Milligan who seemed just as relieved as he was. They had narrowly managed to outrun the torpedo.

Crossing to the other side of the boat, Burbank caught sight of its trail as it jetted past their craft and out into the waves. He said a silent prayer at outrunning the damn thing, but who the hell would've fired a torpedo at the small Javan boat?

"Occitanian fucks," Burbank swore as he swung the spotlight back up to follow the wake of the torpedo back to its source. It wasn't hard to follow and only about a hundred and fifty yards out, he spotted the telltale signs of a periscope.

"Occitanian submarine! Hundred and fifty yards to port. Prepare the depth charges!" Burbank roared.

The ship gave a hard lurch to the left as it began to circle around while another lieutenant broke out the depth charges from the ammunition locker onboard. They were only entrusted with five of them on the whole craft so they'd have to make them count.

It wouldn't be easy. As soon as the spotlight landed on the periscope, the submarine dived and became completely invisible beneath the dark waves. Burbank motioned for Milligan to stop the boat right above the spot where he'd seen the periscope and grabbed the first depth charge. Ripping off the label that hid the fuse, Burbank turned on the explosive. He set the timer for forty feet and then let it slip over the side.

"Move forward, Lieutenant!"

The boat lurched again and in another twenty yards, he dropped another depth charge. Burbank repeated the same action until he was down to his last piece of explosive and waited to hear the noise.

BOOM!

The first explosion shook the entire boat, and despite being forty yards away, it was enough to cause the crew to hang on for the next one. Anything within forty feet of the surface would've been toast with the blast radiance of that charge. The second explosion was much like the first only closer, and Milligan throttled up to escape the blast of the next charge.

When the third charge came, there was a completely different sound. The scraping and twisting of metal followed by twin explosions right after the charge let Burbank smile in grim appreciation. They'd found their prey.

What preceded next would turn the stomachs of even the most seasoned sailor. A steady stream of bubbling erupting from the water as the air pocket of the submarine escaped from the depths.

Next came the broken parts, the rattled machinery of the submarine that had enough density to float. Burbank looked around the wreckage as hats, shoes and paperwork bobbed to the surface.

As with any depth charge, the last thing to come to the top, if it came at all, were the bodies. Several of them floated to surface face down, needing no inspection of whether they still carried life.