Not one of those Channel sharks listed would last five minutes in the Indian
Ocean.
They'd be useful as bait, however.

[engage thread drift, set to maximum]

Sharks, eh. I hate sharks. Variety of reasons, none worth typing.

I close my eyes and picture a shadow in the distance as Charlie Hood and I swam
in the harbor of Diego Garcia. SAR duty plus several seasons on Dodge with
little to do beside swim gave "Rabbit" and I the idea to swim out to the USS
Gompers when it moored far out in the bay. Hint: Diego Garcia, 15 women,
3,200 men; USS Gompers, lots of women, who cares how many men, IT HAD LOTS OF
WOMEN. It looked like at least a half-mile swim, but we had many swims beyond
that distance without any problems. Out there, we could encounter and get
towed by large sea turtles or see any of thousands of reef fish, including 400
pound Jewfish and other giants in the emerald waters, above miles of coral
diversity. Sharks? We probably did see a few, but until this stupid ass
stunt, nothing memorable.

Rabbit and I made it to the Gompers without effort and quickly shouted up a
conversation with the predominately female members of the crew gathered above
us on deck. We talked with them for a few minutes and Rabbit asked if he could
come aboard - with a lot of smirks and smiles, the Gompers' gals told us the
boarding ladder was on the other side of the ship. That was either a 250 yard
swim around the waterline, or a brief free dive under the hull of the
deep-drafted repair ship. Being young, dumb, and, well, you know, Rabbit and
I immediately went under, as the young uniformed lasses above us departed to
see if we made it to the other side of their boat.

Hector was the bogieman on Diego Garcia, used to scare children into their
beds. Newcomers to the base signed in at a duty office - above the desk was an
8x10 in a simple Navy-issue frame, depicting a view over the side of a warship,
of its motor whaleboat alongside it in Diego Garcia's harbor. Clearly visible
beside the whaleboat is a hammerhead ever inch as long as the 20' boat.

At about the keel line of the Gompers, the pressure of our free dive was giving
me some good sparks in the corners of my eyes. Rabbit was off to my right and
ahead of me, which certainly didn't feel right - I should have been a mile
ahead of that little *******. Below us, the shadows of coralheads rose up,
safely deep beneath the massive ship blocking our passage.

I ran into Rabbit. Swimming up, expecting air shortly, bam - Rabbit, in my
way, and not swimming, but pointing.

It was just beyond "rational" view. In the area of disbelief at the edge of
vision, Rabbit was pointing at something I just didn't want to comprehend. It
was moving - a fish, its just a big fish. My lungs started screaming, but my
heart died in my chest. Its a big... hammerheaded... thing. Grotesquely large
- the lagoon was home to many in the 10-14 range and this ... thing.. was built
to an entirely different scale. I think time slowed down to a crawl for the few
seconds it took for that... thing.. to pass out of view, around the bow of the
ship. I watched it go until the bulk of the ship blocked us, then swam with
all my might to get out of that ocean and as far away from that... thing... as
I could possibly get.

..5 seconds after I broke out of the water, like a trout going up a river, I was
sprinting to the top of the boarding ladder, in front of a very surprised OOD,
and Rabbit, the little *******, who had somehow beaten me again. We stood with
water sheeting off of us, momentarily at a loss for words. "Bb-b-bb-ig....
ssh--shh--... I mean, request permission to come aboard, sir?" I don't know
what the hell we'd have done if he said no. My heart took about an hour to get
settled down and by then, liberty launches were running and Rabbit and I were
spared the embarrassment of pleading for a ride home on humanitarian grounds.
The prospect of swimming ashore from the Gompers was less appealing than you
might imagine.

Freakin' sharks. Why does it always have to be freakin' sharks?

Gordon
====(A+C====
USN SAR Aircrew

"Got anything on your radar, SENSO?"
"Nothing but my forehead, sir."