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 From the gang at Special Forces Gear! During the Spring of 1970 I was a young Capt., commanding an A-Team (A-234) with B-Co.,1st. SFG on Okinawa. I took great pride in the fact that I had managed to get my team, as a unit, a rare opportunity to attend Scuba School as conducted by GRP. Looking back I doubt if my Team was as enthusiastic as I. The 6wk. plus course was known to be and in fact was, extremely demanding. Mid course we were practicing "fast drop offs/pick-ups. You know, entering the water off the stern of a fast moving boat and eventually being picked up buy the same boat using a rubber raft tied to it's side with an instructor inside using a bicycle inner tube to flip you into the boat, circa-1941. Essential to the pickup is the Team Leader, myself, remaining stationary in the water, arm raised, to allow the Team to form a a straight "picket line" for pick-up in one pass. After drop-off I coolly remained stationary and raised my hand. Remember now, we were well out of sight of any land and in deep water. We had of course been taught the dangers of the deep, including those concerning the Great White and the futility of attempting to fight off an attack. The boat began to set up about 1/2 mile away when I noticed a "HUGE" black and white shape slip by me close underwater. I lowered my arm slowly and while trying to control the pounding in my chest moved in the opposite direction, trying not to cause a disturbance in the water that might attract the man-eater I had seen. He returned. The boat had stopped and everyone was yelling and pointing at me. "No shit", I thought. I see him please try to pick me up. The shadow returned again. The 3rd. time. This was it. This was the bravest moment of my life---bar NONE. I should have been awarded something. Knowing the futility of resistance and the inevitable nature of what was about to come to pass; I took a deep breath, drew my hopelessly small and dull diving knife and submerged to meet my attacker 1 on 1. I was determined that I was not going to be a cheap or easily forgotten dinner. The bubbles cleared, I was ready. Where was he. There, close, I see the shadow and the white. I start to laugh underwater and gleefully surface. I had just been attacked by a huge piece on drifting paper. I calmly raise my hand, the Team gets on line, the shouting from the boat stops and the pick-ups go nicely. Once on board, I collapse on deck as I laughingly explain my reason for screwing up the formation of the pick-up line. The instructors, trying to hide their grins, turn away in disgust. I had stared Death in the face and was victorious, well sort of. No medal though. Capt. Michael Larkin (ret.) |
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