| An island of coral sand and wafting palms. Beaches with cooling breezes and striking sunsets. On hot sunny days when we walked into the blue Pacific with only swim fins and those obscene Bikini trunks, we felt we knew what lay below.
Water unbelievably clear. Magnificent coral of a hundred different shapes and hues. Millions of small brightly colored fish flitting around their coral castles. Larger fish swimming in seemingly unending schools, leaving the depths to circle and investigate those inquisitive humans. Mollusks and crabs and sea cucumbers. Sand dollars and sea urchins. Sights to remember for a lifetime. |  |
And yet, death also haunts even paradise. What swims below those gently lapping waves? Lurks within those reefs? It is possible that giant creatures, deadly and ugly, also inhabit the domain?
Stories were told of the monstrosities that fattened on the refuse from Eniwetok. Large sharks were frequently seen, rolling and gorging at the daily dumping of the garbage. Fishing rigs were fashioned with steel cable instead of line and used 55 gallon drums for bobbers. Giant hooks were baited with chunks of meat, and the age old battle of angler and fish were played out time and again.
A welcome gentle wind tempered that balmy Eniwetok night in 1953. We sat at the Starlight Theater watching a film which was doing a poor job of holding our interest. Still it seemed better than drinking at Duffy's Tavern or going back to the tent to engage in another highly intellectual discussion of women, cars, or going home.
The men were dressed in khaki shorts and most had on brilliantly colored aloha shirts, which were the optional after hours uniform. About 200 of us were enduring the black and white movie. The star filled heavens were our roof and the distant thunder of the breakers on the reef reminded us continually of where we were.
Seating was wooden benches permanently mounted in a semi circle and terraced up the incline to the rear. Occasional jeep and truck traffic would distract us as their lights passed on Lagoon Drive.
There was a different film every night, subject to the daily plane arriving. If it rained the movie continued unless the downpour was so hard that it blocked the view. Then the projector would be turned off until the rain abated. Few people left. Soon it would stop, then our clothes would dry in minutes.
We were about 30 minutes into the movie when we saw it. On Lagoon Drive a heavy duty army wrecker passed, and dangling from the hook in the rear of the vehicle, was an unbelievably gigantic fish.
The wrecker turned onto Pershing Field and parked. The theater emptied as we headed for a better look at that fish. We could see it was well over six feet long and were told it weighed in at 720 pounds. The small glazed eyes even in death, seemed to survey us hungrily.
We pressed forward and hastened to the victorious angler describing his battle. It was caught near the garbage pier with rod and reel, and the battle to land it exhausted both man and fish. Others enthusiastically had shouted encouragement and suggestions. When finally coaxed into the shallows, a wrecker was backed down and the behemoth was pulled from the sea.
For hours that night we milled around the fish in disbelief we felt compelled to lay our hands on the cold leathery carcass to confirm it was real. As we went to sleep, our thoughts were of the sight we had witnessed.
That day my life at the beach was, forever, changed. Even now, when entering the ocean, I can never completely escape the feeling that, in the water, I am not alone.
Dick Dunlap
Email:DDunlap2@aol.com
