“Don’t feel bad, you guys, that was a pretty good fireworks show! Wish you could have seen more of it but I guess you all were more interested in inspecting the mud on that river bank, huh?”
Tinker, soaked to the bone and dripping river water as she pulled herself upon the riverbank spoke to Sarge, “Big ‘S’ thank you. You saved our lives. You have to be one of the most heroic men I have even met. And one of the bravest.”
“Oh, go on! Just doing my job. Grandpa Scarburg used to say, ‘A person is what other people think they are’...Hero huh? I’ll have to talk to Grandpa...he’s getting senile.”
After laughing Sarge turned to check on his Ma Deuce – no need to check - there wasn’t one to check – it was gone - blown into the river he guessed. Of course the ‘house’ was obliterated but that was part of their plan all along, damn Russians just beat them to it. All that was left was a hole in the ground – a big hole – a crater. The power plant was gone, including the generator. In fact, Sarge thought the whole area reminded him of the pictures he had seen of Nagasaki and Hiroshima after we nuked them at the end of WWII.
For a moment with the excitement of the 4th of July show he forgot about the two gunboats and the Russian Colonel out in the river. Casting he eyes back in their direction he observed – the first craft was still there and had major damage with parts missing everywhere – even the cannon was gone. All due to being caught in the direct line of fire of the ‘bomb'.
However, the second PBR was gone - gone where? During all the excitement it had made a hasty retreat. One of the strange things a 32’ PBR can do is make a complete 180-degree turn in the length of its own body. Obviously they had done just that and ‘cut a choagie’ (escaped).
Eyeing the grounded and abandoned PBR on the far side of the river - was this our way out? Was it repairable? Maybe the radio still worked. But mainly he wanted to go upon the bridge and find that blue beret-wearing Russki Colonel lying dead in a pool of his own blood.
The only way to find out for sure - someone had to make the dangerous trip over and check it out. But swimming was impossible. The river current was too swift. The undertow was murderous in addition there were all kinds of debris floating down the river that could hit and cripple or worse yet kill a swimmer.
Sarge surveyed the area for a floating device he might use - nothing. One thing that explosion did well was make a bunch of little pieces out of the big pieces. The biggest piece of anything Sarge could find could be put in a cigar box – ‘stogies’, thought Sarge, ‘I love those babies, sure wish I had one about now’.
Tinker had been observing Sarge sifting through the debris and wondered what he was looking for?’ Her curiosity finally got the better of her and she moved over closer and asked, “Sarge what in the hell are you looking for? Maybe I can help you find it.”
“Tinker we need to get across the river to that grounded PBR and I’m looking for something that we might use to float on to get over there”
“Why not swim out to the ‘Minnow’?” asked Tinker?
“The water's too swift, undertows too great, too much debris floating down stream, and it’s at least a 100 yards to the boat you would have to take to get to it, and it’s just to dangerous,” replied Sarge. “But I agree - calling it the ‘Minnow’, it fits!”
“What if we had a really good swimmer do you suppose they could do it?” Tinker responded back.
“Yeah, we have some guys that have formed a new unit called SEALS. I got involved with them through the CIA run “Operation Phoenix.” Yeah…one of them could probably do it, or give it a damn good try, but we’re fresh out of SEALs at the moment.”
“Let me give it a try... please.” Tinker pleadingly expressed to Sarge.
"Tinker weren’t you listening to anything when I said how dangerous it was?” he replied making light of her remark.
* * * * *
“Sergeant Scarburg, I did not tell you all my qualifications – while at the University I represented The Republic of China in the Women’s 4 x 100 meter Freestyle Relay in the 1964 Summer Olympics –The XVIII Olympiad, in Tokyo. I am ashamed to say, we did not win but we won bronze medals. I believe I am a good enough swimmer to swim a hundred yards and reach that boat Sergeant, if you will let me try.”
“Well...! Well...! I’ll be damned! Aren’t you filled with surprises”!
Sarge walked over and conferred with Little ‘S’ and “Spook”; explaining to them the information Tinker had just conveyed to him. He told them of the importance of getting to the PBR. How he wasn’t happy about the decision but was willing to give her a try. Little ‘S’ agreed; however, Spook was totally against the idea. He thought it was too dangerous to sacrifice Miss Lu’s life. Sarge responded, “If she’s as good a swimmer as she says, she just might make it. We need that boat. As the commander of this team I… I… I’m willing to let her have a go at it and try.”
Sarge pulled Tinker aside and gave her the standard pep talk: what you’re doing is great, but this is strictly volunteer. If you want to abandon the attempt, no one will blame you. He said he could not nor would he order her to go. It’s dangerous, no doubt about it. If she could complete the swim it might be vital to the mission’s success or failure. If she got to the boat then Sarge told her we would implement Plan B.
Tinker asked Sarge, “What is Plan B?”
“Uh...don’t know just yet Tinker haven’t figured it out – we’ve got to get past Plan A first,” he said, “but I have confidence you’ll make it to Plan B. Good Luck, Tinker.”
After everyone was on board to the particulars of Plan A, they assembled themselves at the rivers edge. Spook got Tinker alone, and said, “Listen, Miss Lu you be careful… if anything looks out of the ordinary or the water is too swift or the undertow is…. or...”
“Sssh, be quite Spook I will be careful”, she said as she reached up and grabbed his face between her two hands, pulled his face close to hers; encircled his neck with her arms and gave Spook the longest hottest kiss he thought he had ever received. When their lips finally parted she drew his ear close and whispered something that only he could hear, then she stepped off the riverbank into the water.
CHAPTER FOUR
BRONZE OLYMPIC MEDAL PAYS GREAT REWARDS
The water was cold on Tinkers skin – she was only swimming in her underwear and bra. That was the best available – there wasn’t a swimsuit within a thousand miles of this place, and she certainly wasn’t swimming off in her birthday suit! Besides these guys were beginning to feel like family anyway.
At first she was fine, then she encountered the current. It was strong, stronger than she had imagined it would be; however, she thought, ‘it’s not that bad I can handle it.’
Rather than swim directly toward the boat she had to swim upstream and let the current help move her downstream in the direction of the boat. Now she knew why Sarge said it was at least a 100 yards swim to the ‘Minnow’ although the river was, probably, no wider than 25 yards.
Sarge was right also about the debris – swollen rivers bring all kinds of flotsam swiftly moving down the stream – here a tree stump approached, roots and all. She avoided it with no trouble. ‘Whoa’, she recoiled as another danger approached, ‘that’s part of a smashed house!’ She slowly treaded water and let the dangers swiftly float by.
Swimming at an angle and letting the current carry her toward the far bank seemed to negate the undertow, she didn’t feel the tug of it very much.
* * * * *
The swim was rigorous but luckily it didn’t take very long and she reached her objective - the ‘Minnow’.
She swam directly to the stern and stepped upon the jet exhaust protruding from the stern. Easily pulling herself out of the water she was able to step upon the deck; however, before taking that first step she had to negotiate around a large puddle of blood pooled on the scorching hot aluminum decking. The source of the blood was two bodies. Both lying in the middle of all that crimson ooze. Th
e smell of the dead bodies and the accompanying blood being slowly baked on the hot deck was overwhelming. Both bodies were already covered by an assortment of flying vermin that feast on such an abundant source of readily available food.
Tinker could see a number of bullet holes in the aluminum-hulled boat. And two more blood-soaked bodies lay crumpled near the bow. She thought to herself, ‘I didn’t realize Sarge’s machine gun could rip apart bodies so badly. These guys are almost cut in half.’ Tinker timidly grabbed the handrail and hesitantly began to ascend the couple of metal steps leading to the bridge house. She was afraid of what she would find up there. She found the place empty but someone had been wounded. A tremendous amount of blood was splattered everywhere, but no bodies.
Back on the opposite side of the river Spook, Little “S” and Big “S” were watching her every move (yes, partially because of the way she was dressed or more specifically un-dressed) but actually they were extremely concerned for her safety – Sarge officially was still in charge of the binoculars but Spook had taken control of them. He wasn’t removing them from his eyes for a moment.
“No! Look Out Miss Lu!’ Spook had the spyglasses to his eyes and obviously he had seen something that upset him terribly.
“What?” said Sarge? “What is it Spook? What are you seeing?”
Still watching through the binoculars Spook yelled, “Look out!! Miss Lu behind you! Behind you...! Behind you!”
Sarge had withstood the suspense as long as he could. He reached toward Spook and physically jerked the binoculars away and put them to his own eyes to see what was happening for himself.
Immediately Sarge saw the object of Spook's excitement – one of the ‘dead’ bodies at the stern, that Tinker had to walk around, was alive and upon his knees making an effort to get to his feet. In his hand he had a docking pole (used for securing a boat to a mooring piling). Sarge knew the ‘body’ was fixin’ to head for Tinker on the bridge.
“Hand me your rifle!” Sarge exclaimed with urgency to Little ‘S’, but grabbed the M-16 before the Captain had time to respond.
Spook was standing on the riverbank, hands cupped around his mouth, yelling, “Behind you Miss Lu...! Behind you!” The yelling was useless, the raging roar of the river drown out any hope of sound traveling across the river’s expanse to the hapless victim, Tinker. In spite of Spooks warning attempts the ‘body’ had stumbled to his feet, pole in hand and, ‘tho weak, was beginning to pull himself up the steps to the bridge one rung at a time toward his target -Tinker.
* * * * *
Back on the other side of the river Sarge now had the black Colt M-16A1 rifle in his hand; he wrapped the sling around his left hand to steady his aim, pulled the rifle up to eye level and peered across the sights drawing a bead on the ‘body’ advancing on Tinker.
When Sarge had his weapon ready to fire the ‘dead man’ had just reached the top rung of the ladder to the bridge and was drawing back his deadly pole preparing to strike Tinker from the rear.
Spook with the binoculars back at his eyes was yelling, "Shoot Big 'S'... Shoot... Damn it... Shoot...!!!
“Suck in that last breath of life you son-of-a-bitch, see you in hell!” as he Breathed, Relaxed, Aimed, took up the trigger Slack and gently Squeezed (BRASS the Army’s way of teaching shooting techniques) the trigger, all within a split second.
The rifle blast projected the 5.56 mm bullet straight and true across the raging river striking the head of the ‘body’ causing it to literally explode! Vaporized! Gone! Sarge’s aim was perfect - Tinker did not even turn around until he fell from the ladder and smashed, what was left of his body, against the deck below the bridge. She turned, looked, saw nothing and assumed the noise was simply a piece of drifting debris that must have struck the boat.
‘Fake being dead… damn right… now you don’t have to pretend’ Sarge thought. ‘Now you see him, now you don’t!’
Spook reaction was of relief for his ‘friend’ and a thankful realization that they had such a man as Sarge with them. Spook not accustomed to swearing said out loud, “Damn, what a shot!” Then turned, grinned and nodded his thanks to Sarge.
Sarge’s mind did not dwell on the shot – his mind was spinning – we have the boat… now what?
It reminded him of the dog chasing the car – what if the dog caught the car what was he going to do with it? Tinker is now on the boat but what are we going to do with it? We’re over here and can’t get over there, and she’s over there and can’t get over here. ‘It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Winston Churchill was right we have the same problem’, he thought.
The men pondered solution after solution but nothing seemed feasible.
They had nothing to work with. They had no small boat, nothing of any size that would float, no rope, they had nothing. One of them suggested using the camouflage netting over the white ‘dish’ up the river. Maybe that could cut it into strips and construct a makeshift rope. Spook without being told, turned and ran toward the spot where the ‘dish’ once stood. The ‘dish’ was gone. The ‘house’, huffed and puffed (plus a little help from those sticks of C4) and blew it away, including all the camouflage netting – all that was left were burnt pieces only a few inches in length - all unusable.
* * * * *
Spook returned to Little ‘S’ and Sarge to give them the bad news. As he arrived they heard a noise from across the river – was that what they thought it was – yes it was! Tinker was trying to start the engines on the PBR! Those two big Detroit diesels were attempting to crank.
Tinker had checked and found that the PBR bow was only grounded on some roots and brush near the bank. If she could get the engines started she might be able to throw the engines in reverse and back that sucker up!
She looked at the controls on the instrument panel, they weren’t THAT complicated – there was a throttle, a switch and some other things, but right now all she needed was the ‘on’ switch and the dual chrome throttles – pushed full forward was wide open, pulled all the way back and down was full reverse – simple enough she thought. She reversed the both throttles about 1/3 and turned the switch to ‘on’ – the motors turned over and over, sputtered a time or two but did not start.
Not a quitter, she tried again – same thing - throttles in reverse, switch ‘on’, this time the motor ‘coughed’. A puff of black smoke floated skyward from the exhausts at the stern of the boat. ‘Let me give it one more go’, she thought – throttles down. She turned the switch once more and the both engines ‘coughed’ once then twice and then they roared into perfect tune with other.
‘Sweet music to my ears,’ she thought. Once they started she pulled the throttles back to the ‘idle’ position to let the motors warm up before she attempted to back off the roots and brush.
While the motors were idling, she did not want to do it, but there was a job that had to done. Remove the bodies. She grabbed them, one by one and toppled them over the side and watched them float away downstream on the swift current. She couldn't understand the headless body at the bottom of the steps... in fact being there upset her… where did he come from… she couldn’t have missed him earlier… but she dumped him overboard anyway, thinking she would figure him out later.
On the opposite bank the men were jubilant they could hear the big twin ‘Detroit diesels’ purring. Maybe she would be able to refloat the grounded PBR.
The time had come – it was do or die – Tinker pulled the throttles down a couple of notches – the motors picked up speed, water was spraying out the jets at the stern but she was still stuck. The boat would not budge.
She went to half throttle reverse this time. Those ‘Detroit diesels’ were really churning up the mud from the river bottom. The water being sprayed out the rear jet exhausts took on the appearance of pure mud. ‘Well nothing ventured, nothing gained’, Tinker thought, so she pulled both throttles down into full reverse – those rear jets were kicking up water a foot or so past the top o
f the stern, the two diesels were at top rpms and were vibrating the entire boat. Tinker thought the engines were going to explode, but suddenly the bow starting to move. Slowly at first then it seemed as if a rubber band snapped and the PBR shot backwards into the river!!
* * * * *
“Whoa...! Whoa...! She did it! She did it!” The guys were jubilant.
Tinker flipped the throttle into ‘neutral’ and sucked in a deep lung full of stinking river air. At the present moment it’s fishy, rotting wood, mildew odor was actually sweet smelling to her nose.
She pushed the throttles forward, just a smidgen, and the boat began to move. She aimed it just above the steel support beams that once were used by the powerhouse intake turbines. At ¼ speed, fighting the current, she maneuvered the boat across the river – about five feet from shore she reversed the engines. The guys waiting on shore grabbed the towline on the bow and securely tied the PBY to one of the steel pilings.
Tinker came to the bow and the men assisted her from the bobbing deck of the boat to the solidness of the earth on the river’s bank – Sarge, sheepishly grinning flopped his big arm around her shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. As he quietly whispered in her ear, “Well done, Plan A and Plan B accomplished! Glad I didn’t have to come up with ‘B’.
Both laughed as he stepped back allowing Little ‘S’ to step up to get his turn hugging their new found hero; as he did he also congratulated her on a job well done.
Spook standing behind the Captain was next to get in his hug. He and Tinker hugged, 'tightly'… to Sarge and Little ‘S’ it did not go without notice that their hug seemed much more endearing and lasted considerably longer than it did when she hugged each of them!
Little ‘S’ moved over closer to Sarge and in a voice that was almost inaudible said, “Pop, I believe we have something starting up here, what do you think?” Little ‘S’ uttered with a twinkle in his eye.
“Could be, Son… could be,” answered Sarge winking back at Little 'S'