Note This is Friday’s installment, delayed by a busy weekend.
The patrol boat circled around seaward of Stran island and headed back into the turbulent waters of the inlet. They had been seeding the water with scuttling charges, hoping to shake loose any more human torpedoes like the one currently lying on the rear deck. Two engine men were examining it.
It was near impossible to see anything. The fresh water was glass clear and ice cold, but it was mixing with the warm, thick and murky sea water. The two flows curled around each other, creating a milky green wash. Still crewmen stared over the side, priming and tossing the scuttling charges at the merest hint of a shadow.
There was a cry from the high view. The boat changed attitude and turned toward an object on the surface. The autoguns opened up, churning the water around the barrel shaped target.
At the back of the boat, the engine men cursed as the sudden turn threw them over. The senior man stayed down. Certain he had heard something, he pressed an ear to the body of the torpedo. There was a low, insistent ticking. He shouted, screaming at his junior to throw the bomb overboard. They strained at the torpedo trying to lift it. Other crew members watched with confusion, what was this panic about?
The explosion obliterated the rear half of the boat. The front was thrown spans into the air, tumbling to crash upside down in the choppy water.