Thursday 16 February 2012

Reflections - By: Trip Williams

Over the years I find myself quite often reflecting on my past.  Some may think this as a whimsical cerebral interlude or even trying to recapture one's glory days; but I think not.  It closely resembles what I was eluding to in my previous post on  Inspirations.  I find inspiration in the reflections on my life!  If you look in a shimmering pool of water, the reflection looking back is that of you.  This is your immediate life.  As you look to the edges, it becomes blurry.  This is closely akin to your past.  As time goes by, we forget things about where we came from, what we have done and in some cases - who we are. Those are the blurry edges of our lives.  But, beneath the water is our memories.  Suspended in time, it lingers - waiting.  Waiting for you to retrieve them and reflect upon them; and that, is what I do.

At times these memories seem to find their own way home as the thoughts appear in my mind.  Some random but most very deep memories filled with emotion.  Good and bad.  From these, I draw upon for my writing.  From these, I find a new world.

Back in 1979, Iran took the american embassy hostage.  While people watched from their living rooms, a different world was unfolding around them.  A world that no one knew and would have been terrified to have really know. I was in the navy and when this crisis broke, the Canadian fleets pulled into harbor alongside the ammo storage facilities.  There we offloaded our practice rounds and with our holds teeming with high explosion warheads, we set sail.  We were now on second degree war time standby.

With the entire fleet at sea, American ships hailed us not by radio, but by signal lamp.  Everyone was running silent. It was reminiscent of WWII.  Demanding to know our identity, lamps flashed through the night as we passed by - patrolling the waters along our borders.  Waiting.  Waiting for orders.

One late night early into this tense patrol, I was standing watch on the starboard wing as lookout.  Flying high above the rolling waves, I scanned the horizons watching for ships and debris in the water that may bring harm to my ship. As we cut through the oceans swells, the moon was full and the air warm. Cascading phosphorus sent shimmering displays of greens and blues splaying across the waves and behind the wake from of our destroyer.

Something caught my eye.  Below the horizon something was wrong.  Phosphorus trails were lighting up.  Raising my binoculars, I focused on twin trails streaming through the waters on an intercept course with my ship. About twelve feet apart and with the left hand one leading the other, I watched intensely.  These trails of  color were traveling at high speed and unforgiving from their course.

Stepping back from the steel enclosure of the lookout wing I leaned against the open window to the bridge and called for the office of the watch.  Pointing at the fast approaching wakes he raised his binoculars to see what had me backed up against the bridge.  My mind was racing with only one thought - torpedoes!

Disappearing back in the dim lit bridge, the officer of the watch left me alone - alone to die.  To suffer in silence the fiery ball of death I was certain would come.  Knowing that my death was immanent and with no place to go, I walked to edge of the wing and watched as the two trails hit their mark.  The phosphorus disappeared and as I held my breath, two explosions of water appeared near the bow.  They were dolphins!  I almost pissed myself!  Christ, that scared the shit out of me!  I know I laughed when I saw them but with that was a rush of emotions I find hard to explain even to this day.  Death did truly come to great me that night and with his arm firmly around my shoulder, he lead me down that path into darkness.  I know that bugger was laughing as he left my side.  Trust me when I say that I have never watched porpoises or dolphins without thinking of that night.

So what is the point of my tale?  Just that from that night, I have built countless tales.  Ones of battle, of survival and ones even of romance.  Think of the endless opportunities presented to me that night.  Stories even yet to be told!  Countless stories!  These are the things in life that I reflect on.  Whether it be from fear or from exhilaration - we can use these events to our advantage.  I know I do.  I will have to admit though, I have a sweet spot for romance and even out of the depths of terror, a little love can always be shinning through.  Ahhww... but alas, that is a tale for yet another day. A tale of the young girl waiting for me back at home port.  The one my mind flashed to moments before my death.  The one who was not my fiance'e.

Trip...

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