75 miles off the Vietnam coast, we were dead in the water on a steamy Easter Sunday 1965. It seemed like the whole neighborhood just stopped what they were doing, so we did too.
After services on the fantail, we held swim call. While M1 totin' Gunners Mates watched for sharks, this was a welcome break from the boring routine. By the way,
I'd never gone swimming in 5,000 feet of water before. No big deal, I only cared about the top six feet anyway.