In last week’s piece about disposing of bombs at sea, I explained how, when in the South African Navy, I was the engineering officer and had accompanied a ship offshore, where, at the 10 km location, we disposed of bombs that were no longer needed by the South African Navy. There were 200 bombs and, as they were slid off the ship, they caused the ship to roll with an increasing pitch. The story continues.

The rolling of the ship caused increasing movement to the point that the ship was pitching by an alarming degree. This was terrifying, but possibly could be tolerated as the bombs slid off the back of the ship while fixed together and guided by the crew. After a while, things changed. No longer were the bombs sliding off the back of the ship in regular order to fall with a splash in the sea. There was considerable movement of the bombs, left and right and up and down and bouncing off the side of the ship. The crew had to move awkwardly up to the bombs and a group of them had to grab on to them and manoeuvre them to the back of the ship. I made my way grabbing on to parts of the vessel to see how the bombs were being affected by the ship’s movement. I wish I hadn’t done this because the moment I got to the back of the ship from the bridge I was flung around like a light aircraft in a hurricane, narrowly missing sliding bits of bombs and having to dodge out of the way of the side of the ship. It did not seem that the whole manoeuvre was under as much control as it should have been, and I had the idea of going back on to the bridge and asking the captain or the first lieutenant if all seemed normal.

I previously mentioned that they spoke very little English and the best I could do was to point at the wildly moving bridge and the vastly splashing sea and say in an interrogative voice, “Normal? Normal? Okay?” The captain pointed at the bits of moving ordinance and smiled and repeated: “Normal. Normal. Okay.” It did not take me too long to realise that he thought I was reassuring him. We were mutually confused by the situation and neither of us had a clear idea of what would happen next.

Under such conditions, I challenge anybody to decide what to do or to make a correct decision while at sea. I had the look of authority, in so far as I was wearing a Navy uniform and had been appointed to supervise, to some degree, what was happening. However, the ship’s crew and captain were much more familiar with the ship and its movements. Under the conditions, however, nobody had an exact idea of what was happening or, more importantly, what would happen at the end of the process. We had come to the point that bombs were moving with frequency and speed all over the rear of the ship, forming loud clinks and rumbles that sounded ominous.

I concluded that, should one bomb detonate, the entire lot would detonate, and we would know very little of it. I felt to some extent saddened that if I were to die in an explosion, fire and sinking of some vessel in this way, my mother would not feel I had suffered an appropriate death. I hoped my friends would acknowledge my bravery. However, since there would be very little left of me, the best I could hope for was a coffin located ashore with a suitable epitaph, but which with time would drift into obscurity.

Abruptly, the crew stopped working and walked past the bombs (still rolling about) and made their way into the cabins. There was a short pause, and a fresh crew came out to continue the work. I concluded that, if somebody was sufficiently calm to continue to work under such circumstances, all could not be as bad as it seemed. The work continued and ended at about midnight. I made my way through the rolling and pitching cabins and fell asleep in the nearest empty bunk. Some hours later, I was woken up by a buxom lady carrying a mug of coffee. She spoke more English than the Filipinos and gave me a bright proposal to go with the coffee.