A Midnight Sail
... The late day October weather was pleasant,
clear skies with crystal clear visibility, warm gentle breezes
feathering across the Chesapeake Bay. Hopefully the weather will hold
for some excellent midnight sailing. KokoleoKo, a 26' sloop, gently
pulls at her moorings, anxious to break her bindings and drift into a
realm of fantasy and delight.
Quickly casting off, motoring out the
slip, then heading for the open bay proper. The marina, a cove on Swan
Creek, gave birth to the wide expanse of the Chesapeake where the
Susquehanna, North East, Elk, and Sassafras rivers flowed as one into
the bay forming a large estuary, reminding me or an expanse of shallow
water like a large unbroken rice paddy. 
The plan was to stop in the middle of the
bay, start supper, and prepare KokoleoKo for tonight's sail. Mid week
was the best time for night sailing as boat traffic was nonexistent.
Only an occasional freighter, tug, barge, or fishing boat plied these
waters tonight. Pleasure craft never venture out after dark, except for
KokoleoKo
The 100% jib is attached to the fore
stay, all lines are in place ready to be put into service at a moment's
notice. The main is unfurled, loosely draped on the deck. The jack stand
fixed and the colors were flying. Everything in the cabin secured, the
marine radio tuned to the Coast Guard Channel. Supper prepared and two
cans of beer are pulled from the cooler. One for the skipper and one for
the crew, who would board later.
As the sun sank to the west the sky
filled with amber after glow, golden bursts of orange and magenta,
pinks, and grays. The telltale grays forecast a change in weather, but
the marine weather station calls for a pleasant evening with storms
toward daybreak. Good, there'll be wind tonight and KokoleoKo will come
alive.
With the growing darkness came a north
westerly breeze of 10 to 15 knots shifting to the east. Mares tail
clouds catch the last touch of daylight with a brush of white streaks,
wispy yellows and blood red. Time to get on with it.
Sailing single handed takes me back to a
time of isolation, darkness, and loneliness. The dark loneliness of
working the wire. Tonight will be no different, a rendezvous with the
past is inevitable ... and the crew will be on board.
Sails are set and scoop a warm damp wind,
breathing life into KokoleoKo A heading is set in the general direction
of Baltimore. Assured the wind is right and sails gather the elements,
the tiller is tied off, allowing KokoleoKo to sail herself. Riding the
bow, a sense of detachment overshadows reality. Demands of the world
cease to exist, memories are the only intrusions allowed to deviate the
course tonight. Destination, the edge of reality, the edge of life ...
the edge.
The view from the bow is dark and
foreboding. Sunset and clouds turn the purple-blue sky to an empty
blackness, save a lone cluster of stars. Sea waters reflect then magnify
the blackness till there is no sky, no water, no horizon. Just KokoleoKo
adrift in a universe of sparkling starlight, her rudder swirling the
Milky Way.
I look to shore and blackness is
interrupted by winking coastal lights some 20 miles distant. Not much
different than the lights on base.... Buoys occasionally wink red,
green, and soft white lights, inviting all to their timeless vigil.
Memories of a time on a lonely fence
line, black sky and earth, existing only to the sentry standing quiet
duty like a Minuteman statute. Time standing still ... the edge of
boredom and freight. Always looking, always waiting, always prepared for
the worst. Never a clue, nor warning as to what the night will bring.
Love it ... hate it ... bored with it. Being part of it---it never
lets go---even after 30 years, it still lingers laying in wait, always
there ... taunting, teasing, interrupting, spoiling life as it should
be.
Okay memories, this is your chance to
take over. This is where you often pounce. Another beer is in order.
Sailing is intoxicating. The sound of sails coaxed with joy, puff
KokoleoKo along in a rush that stirs the body and soul with primeval
ancestral memories. Water gushing past the hull, the wake effervescing
unseen, yet calling after us. Time and distance go unnoticed.
A fresh beer set out for the crew ...
their late tonight, but soon will board. Too soon, I fear. Another beer
to wash the salty lips, sprayed by the wind driven bow wave. Lost in an
ocean of thoughts occasionally pulled back by the marine radio,
ship-to-ship. But the memories are calling ... let go, let go ...
come with us ... come join us once more.
Senses are dulled, melancholy is creeping
in, beer and sailing now intoxicating me to the point of total
detachment of the present reality. The radio crackles, "Coast
Guard, Coast Guard, we have an emergency."
"Coast Guard/Baltimore to the vessel
calling, what's your emergency?"
"Command Security Control, this is
Tango 1, we're picking up flashes to the north ... don't know what to
make of it." CSC Tango 10, Tom can you observe the flashes?"
"Tango 10 CSC, there are numerous flashes to the north, looks like
recognizance taking night pictures." "CSC, this is Bravo 1, we
have incoming, repeat we have incoming, 10, 20, 30 hits so far."
... Abandon ship, run for cover! The
rockets explode on the ramp like fourth of July skyrockets
gone a stray. Rockets slam all around the boat, the flight line is taking
a beating! A fuel truck with
JP-4 takes a direct hit, and the base novas with a deadly wild fire. A
rocket finds a C-130, and another targets an F-4C. The base of the
control tower erupts with a thousand glowing red sparks---rockets
raining everywhere. A flare ship taking off hits a smoldering runway
crater collapsing her landing gear, and she slides on her belly for what
seems an eternity, then breaks up like a ship on a reef. The fiery rain
continues on.
The Chapel! No, not the chapel. Troops
sleep there waiting for their freedom bird home. The Chapel is a burning
ball of flame! The BX, another building, another building, the rockets
are hitting with devastating accuracy. The quiet dark night erupted into
a hell storm of fire. The crew jumps on board and is taking cover and
shouting commands. The boat shakes from the bombardment---nothing is
safe. We're taking another beating boys, hold on for you lives. God save
us all.
The rockets stop at last ... the radio
is alive with screaming cries for help. The memories have all but
blocked out reality. I'm back, I'm back, don't be afraid, we're with
you. You won't be alone ... we're with you, just hold on tight you'll
be all right. Everything is quiet except the wind, a howling wind. But
something's wrong, something's terribly wrong. I can't shake this off,
got to find out what's going on. KokoleoKo is floundering badly, the
wind has backed to the Northeast and increased to 15 to 20 knots. The
shallow bay water is now a short steep chop, battering us like a cat
batting a ball. The crew abandons ship.
Memories quickly fade as reality takes
over. The full set of strained sails threaten to flatten KokoleoKo to
the water. Waves crash over the boat like a cascading water fall. Got to
get control of the boat, got to get control of myself. The crew watches
from a distance as the jib is let go. Crawling forward, got to douse the
violently flapping jib. The bow is bucking like a loco bronco. Riding
the beast to hell, one hand for me and one for the boat as the demon
tears at my sprit, like so many years ago.
The wildly flagging sail, ovulating bow,
fear of what's happening, and my crew beacons me to join them and
abandon ship. Remember? It wasn't so bad last time, 30 years ago, when
you gave in to death and accepted our calling. Not now! You almost did .
. . it was close .... Not now! Can't accept that again. Fight it man
fight it! Don't listen to them ... gain control, get it together. But
they're my friends!? They were your friends ... life is your friend
now ....
My legs entwined in the bow pulpit, hands
coiling line around the beast of a jib sail brought to frantic gale life
the bucking KokoleoKo The main sail, stretched tight as a drumhead,
whirls the boat in a drunken dance to port then starboard, and back
again. Start the engine---head upwind. The main sail quivers violently
in protest. Mast, rigging, and boom are all splintering and shredding at
their mountings.
KokoleoKo trembles with fear, much as the
sentry trembled in the firestorm. Precariously perched on the cabin, the
sail lashing and slapping as it is resists lowering from the mast. Lash
the main to the boom before you're swept into the water! ... That's
it! ... a little farther!
Holding on dearly, not ready to die yet,
I sail catapulted into a mysterious lee shore, and am suddenly out of
the nightmare's nightmare. The boat's keel is again submerged as it was
meant to be, and I quickly drop anchor in the spirits' haven.
Now at anchor, can rest this weary sentry
turned mariner, the memory remains and the crew is gone once more. I
reflect on the past and reflect on the present ... a dance with death
mimics that waltz with death 30 long years ago. My soul is shaken and my
chilled body spasms with exhaustion. Once more my crew casts me on the
shores of life.
Until that day when we are together
again, I am forever destined to
sail away ...
