Excerpts from The Satterfield Incidents: He was the worst sort of martinet, with a habit of mocking and harassing sailors while on duty. Now the storm’s full fury struck as torrential rain lashed down from the heavens. Twenty foot walls of seawater smashed over the forward gun mount, hitting the bridge as the ship dove into valleys between waves. In silence, they looked toward shore at a mountain range beyond, when suddenly, two camera-like flashes discharged from land. Tom asked. What the hell’s that? Seconds later, two huge splashes erupted twenty yards away, stunning both. Shortly after 1700, lookouts spotted three rapidly-moving silver objects miles away, rising over a mountain chain and diving over the beach toward the sea. Enemy planes! An excited seaman rushed into the bridge and stood a few feet from Kowalski. Sir, hostile aircraft are fast approaching. The space was black as a deep cave. Fire shot toward them from burning surface oil. Tom turned on the nozzle, began spraying and thought, Man, it’s so damn dark I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Twisted steel and sharp jagged metal gave evidence of horrific destruction as flames scorched the destroyed space. The blade ripped through a dungaree shirt, slicing his upper right arm. He winced in pain as blood trickled on to the deck.