Shark Shooter

We were steaming somewhere between Acapulco and San Diego. I had just finished my night watch and was enjoying my breakfast before going below to catch some z's. News travels fast on a ship and I noticed some of the crew were hurriedly moving topside. A disinterested Yeoman at my table didn't move. I asked him  If he knew what was going on. He said that the weapons officer was going to shoot some sharks. My imagination went wild and I envisioned them  firing the 5" cannon.  I ran up topside and found that it was far less dramatic. The weapons office ,who must have narrowly  qualified with the minimum height for an officer, was standing on the tail of the ship with what looked like a Thompson Machine Gun. There were a dozen or so sailors around him, all looking over the edge. I pressed  forward to get a better look and saw there were several sharks tailing us. The officer told the group to stand back as he raised the Thompson. I was skeptical  of the situation and moved way back out of the way. Just as I turned the officer  opened fire. The scene became like a cartoon where someone fires a gun and the recoil drives them back. The officer lost his footing and seemed to be falling back as he fired. The last few rounds caught the lip of the deck and pieces of the lip and the bullets flew all over  . Miraculously, no one was hurt. I expected a big commotion would follow this rash act, but I never heard anything more about the incident. ©2013

61 Vette

In 1962, My older brother convinced my mother to buy a 1961 white Corvette. Just my little sister and I were still at home , so we had to take turns as to who would get the Vette on Saturday night.

One Saturday night it was not my turn so I was cruising around with some friends. There was nothing to do in that small town, so cruising was all we did. We had all pitched in a quarter which had been enough to buy three or four gallons of gas. Enough to last the night.

There were at least twenty cars cruising that night. All of a sudden they all started heading out East of town. That could only mean one thing. There was going to be a drag race.

East of town there was a straight section of a seldom traveled farm road. Years before, some enterprising guy had measured off a quarter mile and painted a large "START" and " FINISH" at each end. The local news paper had vilified the action with front page photos. Multiple black tire marks gave evidence that it had been used often.

The guy I was riding with did a 180, burning rubber all the way. We arrived on time as we could see the two pairs of head lights at the far end of the strip.

Just like in some fifties movie, we lined the road with headlights lighting up the strip. Someone with a makeshift flag got between the contestants and they blasted off with screaming tires and smoke.

We didn't know who it was until they flashed by the finish line. A Black 409 Chevy beat a White Corvette by two lengths.

My little sister was driving the Vette.

©2013