The Song of Moses: A John Michael Saga

By John Garvin Clarke

This is a quick-paced action adventure story in an Indian Jones-style genre about John Michael and his research vessel, The Red Sea Princess, that must fight pirates in order to explire the depths of the Red Sea. His quest is to restore God's glory as told him in the Song of Moses, found in Exodus 15:1-20.

As we learned in the first book, "God's Storehouse of the Deep", John Michael is after Pharaoh's palace guards chariots that rode into the sea in pursuit of Moses mentioned in Exodus 14:7. Once found they will give proof of God's amazing miracle power and validate the accuracy of the Bible. At the end of the age this Song of Moses, will be sung in heaven as a victory song by the martyred left-behind saints. (Revelation 15:3)

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781489745729

John Garvin Clarke

The author is a Christian, and a layman Biblical geographer and cartographer. He is part of the new renaissance of Moses where the Exodus discovery and morality of Moses is coming to life and which in turn, requires our need for the forgiveness from the Cross of Jesus.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-4571-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4570-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4572-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022923279

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 12/13/2022

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Contents

Scripture references (NKJ)

Introduction

Chapter one:             Going Down

Chapter two:             Moses the Egyptian

Chapter three:           The French Connection

Chapter four:            The Greek Yachtsmen

Chapter five:             Smyrna

Chapter six:              The Angel of the Exodus

Chapter seven:          As Greece Burns

Chapter eight:           The Aegean Sea

Chapter nine:            The Russian-Iranian Rogue sub base at Tartus, Syria

Chapter ten:              Storm Watch

Chapter eleven:         The Mediterranean Sea

Chapter twelve:         Mallorca

Chapter thirteen:        Ambush

Chapter fourteen:       The Sinking of the Princess

Chapter fifteen:          Walvis Bay

Chapter sixteen:         Sofia’s War

Chapter seventeen:     Gone Fishing

Chapter eighteen:        The Launch

Chapter nineteen:        Mossel Bay

Chapter twenty:           The Pirates Lair

Chapter twenty-one:    SAS Netherfield

Chapter twenty-two:    Cape Town

Chapter twenty-three:   The SAS Seaforth

Chapter twenty-four:    SAS Darlington

Chapter twenty-five:     The Salvage Crew

Chapter twenty-six:      New Life

Chapter twenty-seven:  The Prisoner

Chapter twenty-eight:   IRGC Larak

Chapter twenty-nine:    The Island of Socotra

Chapter thirty:              The Island of Refuge

Chapter thirty-one:       Doom in the Gulf of Aden

Chapter thirty-two:       Change of Plans

Chapter thirty-three:     The Red Sea

Chapter thirty-four:      Moses One

Chapter thirty-five:       Elath

Appendix

Summary of Miracles

Egypt’s Gold Harbor

Egypt’s Gold Harbor

The Exodus Timetable 1445 – 1485 BC

All Forty-two Exodus Campsites From Numbers 33

Scripture references (NKJ)

Psalm 33:7 He gathers the water of the sea together as a heap; He lays up the deep in storehouses.

Psalm 77:18–20 The voice of Your thunder was in the whirlwind. The lightning lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook. And Your way was in the sea, Your path in the great waters. And Your footsteps were not known. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses.

Galatians 4:25 for this Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia . . .

Isaiah 43:16–17 thus says the Lord, Who makes a way in the sea and a path through the mighty waters. Who brings forth the chariot and horse, the army and the power, they shall lie down together, they shall not rise; they are extinguished. They are quenched like a wick.

Isaiah 44:27 Who says to the deep be dry . . .

Isaiah 51:10 Are you not the one who dried up the sea, the waters of the great deep; that made the depths of the sea a road for the redeemed to cross over?

Isaiah 51:15 But I am the Lord your God, who divided the sea whose waves roared.

Exodus 15:19 For the horses of Pharaoh went with his chariots and his horsemen into the sea, and the Lord brought back the waters of the sea upon them, but (as) the children of Israel went on dry land in the midst of the sea.

(The verb tenses match in the oldest autograph showing a simultaneous event).

Numbers 33: 5–49 For the first time in history the complete itinerary of the Exodus of Moses, shown on the map in the front of this book, has been recorded and explained in the appendix of this book.

Revelation 15: 2–3 And I saw something like a sea of glass mingled with fire, and those (martyred) who have the victory over the beast, over his image and over his mark, and over the number of his name, standing on the sea of glass having harps of God. And they sing the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb. . . .

Introduction

THE SONG OF Moses, (Exodus Chapter 15), is the Bible’s witness of God’s power to deliver His people. The Song of Moses is a victory song that will be sung in Heaven by millions of the martyred left-behind saints as per Revelation 15:3. Today, for this Bible prophecy to be complete, the remains of the Pharaoh’s ancient army needs to be raised from the deep to show God’s power witness to be true, and to begin the renaissance of Moses.

John Michael, and his beautiful Egyptian bride, own a heavily-armed exploration vessel called the Red Sea Princess, and their goal is to explore the undersea path of Moses. During their exploration journey, they are hunted down and attacked by fleets of deadly pirate commando gangs that are supported by hostile nations in the Middle East. The crew of the Red Sea Princess has to fight for survival in an attempt to validate the power of God.

For John Michael the guide that led him on his amazing adventure was the same guide that led Moses through the wilderness and wrote all his books. This guide was called the Angel of the Lord, the Holy One of Israel. It was He who made the face of Moses shine and dwelt with him in his tent, outside the camp, for six months in the Sinai wilderness at Exodus campsite #12. And it was Him that taught Moses laborious lessons of holiness, by the creation of the Tabernacle and the creation of the Levitical Order. It was a desperate attempt to appease and placate the Holy Father and keep Him from destroying the sinful Hebrew nation (Ex 23:20–23, 33:7–11, and Isa 43:3).

With all the miracles done for the Hebrews in Egypt and finally God’s rescue at the Red Sea, the Father reasoned that the Hebrew Nation would naturally follow after His righteousness, but it was not to be. The Angel of the Lord did everything possible to save the sinful nation with Moses as His chosen one to lead them.

Centuries later those lessons about sin, pointed to the need for the cross as the Angel of the Lord was born a man and named Jesus. And the Angel of the Lord is still rescuing souls today, this time, by His own blood. John Michael’s quest is to validate Moses. And to validate Moses is to validate the Father’s morality and our need for a ‘paid for’ holiness that allows us to enter the Father’s holy kingdom.

There are no research vessels today that are hunting for Moses or to validate the Bible whatsoever. But there is a lot of work being done to deny God’s existence by spending billions of dollars to go to Mars and to produce documentaries ascribing the wonders of nature to an accident in time.

This Exodus research started during the Gulf War in 1991 with DOD satellite-maps enabling us for the first time to have very accurate maps of the northern terrain of Arabia, the ancient land of Midian. This region supplies an abundance of Biblical geographic clues to easily place all the forty-two campsites and in their exact order as they were described in Numbers 33:5–49.

The author’s two novels, God’s Storehouse of the Deep and The Song of Moses, incorporate this study, (see the appendix). The documentaries for the 42 Exodus Campsites are to follow.

Chapter one

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Going Down

Oh, God, we’re going down, Murray muttered as the old biplane’s engine suddenly filled the night sky with an alarming hush of silence. Murray turned to flash a glance at John Michael in the rear cockpit with his eyes ablaze peering through his WWI protruding goggles that were strapped over his leather helmet. Besides his heart pounding, the only sound that could be heard was Murray’s white neck scarf flapping in the breeze.

What followed next was the howling whine of the old wood and fabric biplane, with its oversize floatation pontoons, as it slowly began to spin, and was now caught in its fall from the sky.

John Michael’s eyes grew as big as golf balls, for he had been afraid of heights since his youth. He was now desperate to battle his panic. His eyes quickly focused on the plane’s vibrating wings that seemed eager to tear off.

So this is how it all ends, John Michael mumbled to himself. His mind exploded with visions of his life passing before him—his beautiful wife, Natasha with her large black flashing eyes, her radiant smile, her intimate glances, her warmth, her dignity, and her voluptuous form and dignified beauty.

He rushed to a fantasy to rescue him from the paralysis of fear and the overwhelming disparaging notion of never seeing her again.

Well, he murmured to himself, let’s look at the bright side. I am living an Oscar-winning scene with only one take. This plane with its fearless heroes aboard will plunge into a dark foreboding sea and we will see their lifeless bodies drift slowly downward in the blackness of the deep to their final end. Screen to black; cue the credits and theme music. It works for me, it’s a riveting and very dramatic Hollywood ending—and to think, we will do it all in one take.

It would be nice if we could stop spinning, he shouted to his incompetent imaginary camera crew.

Agonizing moments passed before Murray successfully fought the plane’s spin and all that could be heard was the wind whistling through the old biplane’s struts as they dove ever-downward through billowy gray clouds that were faintly lit by starlight.

In the blink of an eye, the clouds caught John Michael’s eye with a beckoning invitation. Suddenly it was obvious to him that he could escape from his open-air cockpit and avoid his certain doom by jumping out of the plane to safety and landing on these billowy creations. So he lifted himself momentarily and then slumped back down.

I must face this relentless certainly. No one can escape the grip of a falling doom when they slipped through this land of seductive vapors. I must finish the scene, he shouted as if to scold his imaginary film crew.

Nevertheless, he thought, this place, even now, is quite beautiful, and without a doubt the angels must congregate here. Perhaps my spirit will return and ride this very cloud across the night sky and perhaps I shall never leave it.

John Michael looked up yearning to cling to his fantasy in the clouds, but they slipped from his view. He looked down in horror at a vast expanse of a black shimmering sea.

Brace yourself. We’re going in, Murray yelled.

Murray felt the stick respond just below fifty feet, and he managed to flare the seaplane’s nose up just enough before they slammed into the sea with a cloud of spray.

The two men were soaked and now cold and adrift in a foreboding sea on a moonless night with only the gentle sound of rolling waves lapping against the plane’s pontoons. Soon they settled in for a long wait for help. To quite his nerves, John gazed up at the immense sky that was full of bright stars and puffs of traveling clouds.

For John Michael the ocean spray jolted him from his mental fog. He felt strangely satisfied with himself. His acute fear of flying had been trumped by his fortunate survival and left him with perhaps a little more swash in his swash-buckle as he savored his inexplicable heartfelt gratitude to God.

I guess we will have to wait till daylight to get help and find the problem, Murray said.

John Michael reached for his walkie-talkie, flicked the on switch, and hit the talk button. It was a long shot, for it only had a range of somewhat less than ten miles and the old plane had no radio.

Mayday, Mayday, we are a small seaplane down at sea about two hours southwest of Genoa. John Michael said as he repeated the call several times.

The two men sat patiently with little hope that their call was heard. After a while they settled in to make themselves comfortable when suddenly the sea began to boil with the roar of air bubbles that rocked the little plane violently, soaking its wing tips. From the white torrent emerged a glistening, long black sea monster from the deep with its sleek conning tower that rose high above them. Two short blasts followed from the mammoth vessel’s horn, and a watch attachment emerged from the conning tower to focus a blinding searchlight upon them. What movie-making perfection. We even have a spotlight, John Michael thought.

You picked a curious place to land, echoed a loud voice from the sub’s com. Greetings, we are the Los Angeles class attack sub, Ashford out of San Diego. We picked up your ‘Mayday’ call. How may we assist you?

We had engine failure and we were forced to land, Murray replied.

Well, that would explain why we didn’t see any fishing poles on board, the voice quipped.

And after a brief pause the voice continued, We can have our ship’s engineers take a look, if you’d like?

We’d be much obliged, Murray responded.

Within minutes a host of sailors with bright flashlights standing on two inflatables were hovering over the little plane’s engine.

We need to remove this battery for a charge . . . and look at this; a line from the magneto coil has come loose.

It looks like we can get you underway again, but this battery needs a charge. Would you like some hot coffee while you’re waiting? We will secure your plane until you return.

The two weary fliers walked into the sub’s galley amongst a small committee of curious seamen seated at a long table.

We very seldom get visitors; where are you guys from? one of the crew asked.

Small world, I am from San Diego as well. And when I am not at sea, I sell real estate in La Jolla, California. Maybe you’ve heard of us, Your Home Finders Realty on Prospect Street? John Michael said as he found himself facing a room full of blank stares.

"My ship is the former U.S. Navy Dive Support ship, the DS 20, out of Cypress. She’s now the Red Sea Princess, U.S. flagged."

Hey, how about that, we’re practically neighbors back in the States and to think, you came all this way to sell us a house, one sailor quipped.

We mean to give you good service, John Michael said, holding back a grin.

Seriously, select a home on the Internet, and I will get the credit for the sale. There’s a malicious rumor going around my office that I need all the help I can get, John Michael said, handing him a badly crumpled business card he laboriously dug from his soaked wallet.

And I am his pilot and movie star in his film productions at sea, Murray proudly interjected.

"Is that a fact—hmm, had any box office crashes lately? the sailor quipped. And at that the galley filled with laughter. After the room settled down again, the sailor asked, Where are you guys headed?"

We are bound for the French Riviera to join our ship, John Michael said.

Just then the sub’s commanding officer entered the galley.

With my compliments, I need a word with you, sir, he said looking sternly at John Michael. So the two men moved to the sub’s conference room.

I have a few questions to ask you, sir, the commander began. John Michael felt alarmed by the tone of his voice and thought that maybe the CO may have uncovered his ship’s maritime legal problems.

I am Lieutenant Commander Cox, and I am currently this boat’s CO until the regular captain returns next year. Who are you and what is the name of your ship and where are you bound? Cox asked.

John Michael quickly examined the CO’s piercing black eyes and found no hint of welcome, and the monotone of his voice only spoke of his military aloofness. He had taken a passenger aboard his boat, which is almost never done, and he was going to be all business.

"My name is John Michael, and my ship is the Red Sea Princess, flagged in the U.S. She was formerly a USN Dive support vessel, last stationed, out of Cypress."

Interesting . . . I think I’ve been on her . . . it must have been almost two decades ago. It was during a recovery operation of a downed aircraft in the Indian Ocean. How is the old tub anyway? I thought for sure she would have been scraped by now.

She’s a little worn, but there’s a lot of life left in her, John Michael said, trying to conceal his embarrassment.

The commander’s eyes widened with a surge of emotion in his expression when a thought passed through his mind. He paused and stopped his train of thought and took a breath.

I see that you have a biplane, he said as he took a moment to calm himself. Did you know anything about an al Qaeda task force from Aqabah that was bound for Baghdad, last year?

I might have heard something about that, John Michael cautiously answered.

Your ship was in the Red Sea at the time, was it not? The CO asked.

Sir, I appreciate your hospitality and the help you have offered to our downed aircraft, but I must insist that I am not a source of information for anyone, John Michael said as he began to rise from his seat.

If you please sir, have a seat, the CO said as he reached out to John Michael’s shoulder with a smile. You have nowhere to go and no way to get there, unless of course, you have an extra battery on board. I just wanted to have a polite conversation.

It’s a bit of a miracle that we even have this meeting. When you first came aboard we verified the location of your ship for our security reasons. We did that via your last weather report request that tracks your location from a CIA satellite link. So I know you check out.

John Michael sat back down, his face flushed, as the CO began to explain.

"This boat was attacked last year in the Red Sea by, we think, Hamas pirates while we were cruising on the surface. Two of their RPG rockets hit our conning tower, and we were unable to submerge for a time. We had to outrun them, which took some time because they were fast. They had a swarm of zodiacs supported by a swift moving charter fishing vessel that followed them. So, you might say, I have a score to settle.

And months later, when I learned about a deadly squadron of four heavily armed freighters that somehow blew up in the Red Sea, my interest peaked. And when I found out that they were carrying a deadly task force on its way to launch a surprise attack on the U.S. troops in Baghdad, I began my own investigation, the commander said with his eyes studying John Michael’s expression.

So what’s that got to do with me, sir? John Michael said, avoiding eye contact.

Well, it seems, there was an obscure report that told of a biplane that patrolled the region an hour before the catastrophe hit. Could it be a coincidence that you have a biplane?

The commander hesitated and cleared his throat, knowing that the point of his conversation was laid bare.

John Michael started to raise himself from the table again, and the CO put his hand on his shoulder once more and said with a calming voice:

Please, sir, have a seat. He thought a moment to search for the words he wanted to say. I want to offer you my sincerest compliments and gratitude, sir, and allow me the honor to be the first to congratulate you and thank you for your heroic service to your country. It is a sad day when we can’t discuss this officially; nevertheless, what you did was a very important thing. We discovered later that the task force was very nasty. They had ten thousand troops with WMD gas that the U.S. gave to Saddam in the eighties and was later sent to Syria when the Americans attacked. The task force had enough poisonous gas to wipe out the whole area of Baghdad. The Saudis are spending a fortune to recover the canisters of the stuff off the Red Sea floor. Your ship saved many American lives that day, and I just wanted to thank you.

At that, the two men sank back into their chairs in silence, avoiding eye contact. John Michael leaned back with his hands behind his head, stretched his back, and gazed up at the ceiling and finally muttered softly.

Okay, okay, you’re welcome.

The commander’s eyes relaxed in relief but became focused again when a fresh idea surfaced.

I need to ask you something vital, sir. We need to team up with you to catch pirates that are supported by rogue nations like Iran, North Korea and Venezuela. They all have Russian-built Victor-class nuclear submarines and the Iranians are supported by sub tenders at sea. Apparently the Russians are having a garage sale on their aging nuclear subs, the CO said.

"We are not only focused on the Somali pirates, who are mostly after the money and do not always kill, but I am after the Iranian Hezbollah sub fleets that are very deadly. We will track the rest in our spare time especially when they have joint exercises that were recently held in the China Sea.

They operate all over the globe, but especially in the Indian Ocean region. I am sure the Somalis get much of the blame. They certainly have a share in the hundreds of missing ships lost every year. Too many of the 30,000 ships that sail the oceans everyday are stolen and have been repainted and reregistered in unfriendly countries by new owners. It has become a booming criminal enterprise in the hands of our Country’s enemies. If we teamed up, no one would know about it—no one.

It sounds like we would be the bait, John Michael said, lifting his cup to his lips.

Yes, I am afraid so, the CO answered with a slight reluctance in his voice.

"I am sure, my friend, that you are aware that you are a hunted man and your ship is a high-value target for these pirates. I am honored that I have the good fortune to reach you in time to offer you a warning and perhaps aid you in the defense of your ship. There are a few new developments that you may not be aware of, and please, know what I am about to tell you is ‘need to know’ info only.

"Because of Obama’s dramatic budget cuts and his unfriendly administration to the military — thank God we are nuclear — for now we are only permitted to slip out of our port and cruise the California coast occasionally. And to make matters really stupid we need permission to turn on our sonar from the environmental California Coastal Commission, so that we don’t bother migrating whales. That, of course, makes the missile-laden rogue subs that cruise our coastline perfectly safe to do so.

Nevertheless, since we are packed with supplies, we can potentially patrol for months. And since our shrinking carrier fleets that are designed to protect, are too often grounded, we cannot get into the hunt for rogue subs—that is unofficially, of course, he said, diverting his glance.

The Iranians now have two dozen mini subs built to fight in the shallow Gulf waters and can lay ambush anywhere in that region. But they now have expanded and added a fleet of Russian-built, Victor-class, nuclear subs and the list of countries buying these subs is growing. Even the cartels own them, the CO said in a cool monotone voice.

John Michael studied the frustration in the COs face. It seemed that Cox was attempting to privately deal with an enemy that his commanding officers were told not to see.

Cox told of his quest for a meaningful normalcy in the daily life of his ship. His crew indulged in a tolerated humor fest to combat the communication of nonsense he had to deal with from his commanders.

The orders were often laden with subtle political and moral slants directed at the crew such as the acceptance of gay sailors aboard and how to deal with women sailors and how they must be treated to avoid lawsuits. There was always the steady flow of clean and green dictums, and a steady flow of edicts on how not to offend the Muslims aboard his nuclear sub.

But you, sir, the CO continued, "you must know that we—or I mean you—have no political friends at home because of the long political arm of foreign money flowing into American politics. Americans have no say in the decisions of our government anymore.

"The foreign money calls the shots and especially on how we can use our own oil and gas resources. They didn’t have to conquer us. They just bought the Democratic Party and a few Republicans, who receive filtered money from political action groups like OPEC.

"Our nation is under an anti-God Marxist invasion and has to bear the heavy burden of lies about climate change and slogans that everyone needs to be equal and fair instead of free… and the government will decide what is equal.

"Now the Chinese are buying up all our oil and gas natural resources and electric generating plants and stealing our intellectual property and that includes our military secrets. They have all of our military’s intelligence handed to them as political favors. So all of our latest and best military hardware is now being built in China for the Chinese military.

"Our country’s present course to its future goes something like this; OPEC and China bleed us as they consider us as their bought and paid-for colony and their ‘bought and paid-for’ Marxist politicians rule us and eventually enslave us.

You must have hit a nerve, sir. I could never talk like this with my own command, Cox said swallowing hard and pausing to strengthen his resolve.

"They will not rest until they have bankrupted our free nation as the Russian Soviets did to theirs in 1989. The Communists lost the USSR in 1989 when they ran out of money and ceased to exist. They have the same objective for our freedom-loving constitutional government.

"And when we are broke, the oil-rich Muslims and the Chinese will then come to our garage sale of our natural resources and seal off any hope of us paying off our national debt. And in the end, Communism will win over Capitalism, and Islam will win over Christianity, and our certain enslavement wins over our freedom.

Sadly, like so many countries that were taken over by the so called Democratic Socialist before WWII, as they were--our precious America is asleep and kept that way by the Marxist press and made to grow by our public education system that is at war with our kids for their own gain and teaches them to hate their own country, the CO said as he suddenly became uneasy and carefully studied John Michael’s surprised expression.

With those words ringing in his ears, John Michael’s eyes lowered, his mind tossed with concern on the safety of Natasha and the crew with no help coming from his own country. What choice do I have? I have an occasional liaison with Israel and maybe one with Egypt, so why not have a phantom liaison with a U.S. sub?

John’s glance scanned the cabin searching for a decision. His stare became distant as he momentarily paused to steer his thoughts into a silent prayerful plea.

Well, why not, it’s just me and God and this sub against the whole world, is that it? John Michael blasted. The CO grinned and nodded.

Well then how can this boat help us fight pirates? Attacks usually happen at first light, and they only need ten minutes to board and start killing. So how can you help? I am sure you can’t torpedo an inflatable, and you will never get clearance to sink anything bigger than a Dixie cup on the surface. You certainly wouldn’t surface and expose yourself to a RPG attack. So what can you do? John Michael asked. His casual tone was suppressing a deeper thought of dread in his heart.

I kill subs he said calmly. The CO was painfully reluctant to reveal more information, but he knew he had to in order to win John Michael’s trust. "You have a good point. When we put boats on the surface, the pirates never reveal themselves with hostile acts. They pretend to be a commercial vessel or a fishing vessel and if they don’t shoot first they are safe.

It makes us almost a useless threat. And if we answer a Mayday call, it is always too late. The victims are quickly put at gunpoint, and we can only watch from a distance, the CO said as he rose to pace about the cabin.

We do have a Navy SEAL team in training aboard, and they want battle experience, and they could fight from your decks. They will bolster your defenses, and you will have the use of our advance warning systems that we have aboard, the CO said.

So as I understand it, the SEALS fight above the surface, and this ship fights below the surface, is that it? John Michael asked.

Yes, I am in a silent war beneath the waves. I am on my own hunt for Iranian rogue subs and any other rogue nation’s subs that I might find, and I will privately sink the bastards, the CO said in a somber tone.

Some of these rogue nations have purchased the new Chinese anti-ship Sacarde and Noor cruise missiles that have very accurate guidance systems developed by the U.S. and given to China under the Clinton Administration, probably for campaign contributions. To make things worse, the Chinese now have their Dong Feng 21D ICBM missile that they will sell to anyone. It is very accurate with a 900-mile range. It is designed to kill our U.S. carriers, the CO said as he rose to his feet before he continued.

And the Russians have now taken this missile technology a step farther, enabling the missile to be launched from a submarine beneath the waves. The inventory of warheads they use are very powerful, and once launched, are very difficult to stop. And since they are being launched beneath the waves, they can surprise and easily kill our carriers and coastal cities, the CO said with his eyes looking down for a moment.

Some of us in the weapons community believe that either the Venezuelans or perhaps the Iranians used one or more deadly ship-killing torpedoes to sink that BP oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, the CO said, noticing John’s surprise.

"Our government promoted the theory that it was gas bubbles that exploded. This is hard for a Navy seaman to swallow because the well was a mile deep. What was needed was the destructive power of today’s torpedoes that are frightening. They can blow ships completely apart in an instant. One of these torpedoes had to be the only weapon that could have sunk a mammoth drilling platform that was 250 feet square and had four colossus ballast tanks that extended over 80 feet beneath the waves. That platform was designed to move less than three feet in a major hurricane with forty-foot waves slamming against her.

"And I think that those rogue nations are sending our government a private message that our oil supplies are just as vulnerable as their own. And in the process they can reap large oil profits in delivering that message. Of course that message was kept secret from the public to enable the government to loot BP and extract enormous fines.

"The rogue subs have the ability to go silent and deep and fire their torpedoes and missiles at greater ranges, enabling them to go after the biggest kills from unsuspecting cruise ships or super tankers, and, of course, our carriers.

"In the future we will face nuclear weapons that subs could fire at our coastal cities if their demands are not met. But for now they can paralyze shipping anywhere they go just by showing up and asking for the ship’s surrender—it’s like robbing