Where is it all going to anyway? I have reviewed my Funkin Wagnalls, front to back and can not find a word that explains the daily dilemma that we all face, save that old acronym, FUBAR!!!
With this realization firmly in my mind, I donned my OBA, closed my eyes and reached for the diving alarm handle. Square? Round? I can't recall. Pulled twice and took 'er down.
It's quiet here in the dark depths, I can think.
I settle into my chair in front of the sonar set. Lights of all colors twinkle before me and I know what each is telling me.
I ease the old headphones on, the ones I made from an engineman's ear muffs and speakers from an issued set. I secured coiled springs to the back supports with tape and stuck red balls on the ends, I look like a Martian, but I feel secure down here.
The phone 'yelps', "RamJet, WTF is S-23?"
The conn officer wants to know, but doesn't want the question blatted over the 7MC. He has a poor visual via quick peeks with the scope and it must look different than it sounds.
"No sweat." I tell him, "I realize he's movin' fast, but it's not a warship, it is a fast cargo, one of those newer turbine rigs, screws don't lie. Hey, I'm guessin' an AOB of port 20, does that jive with what you're seein'?"
"Yeah, RamJet, that looks close. Good work. I'll keep you posted."
-- CLICK! -- I settle back again and make a sweep around, everything is everything.
I feel a down angle developing.
Good, we're going deep while this guy goes by.
Yea, I like it down here.
RamJet - ex-ST1/SS, deep-divin', death-defyin', steely-eyed - Burleigh