For the True Delta Diver Experience (or you just Need Glasses) , , ,
As we’re rolling out of our Soft Launch period . . .
That’s right, if you’re reading this, you were part of our Beta Group of readers. We started with about 25 of you, and another 25 stumbled in over the past couple of months.
As I was about to say, in between now and our OFFICIAL Delta-Divers.com on September 16th, we’ll be sharing some odds & ends with you.
First of which is…
The Delta Divers Project that grew out of my upcoming book turned into a two-year commitment, which will consist of four parts.
THE BOOK — The Delta Divers of Vietnam
OUR LEGACY SITE & NEWSLETTER
A DOCUMENTARY
and
A LEGACY NOVEL - Based on the Delta Divers
Here’s a little sample for the first chapter of the Novel . . .
BUBBLES UP
— Two old Army Divers dive partners, Jaxson McQuade and Harold F. Swartz are looking for a project to get their lives back on track —
He grunted. “I got a terrible idea, Jax.”
“There it is.”
He did the thing where he rubs his jaw like it makes him smarter. “Friend of a friend called — There’s an old LCM down in a backwater marina by Catfish Bend. Eight-boat. Half sunk, but not all the way committed.”
“Like you.”
“Like us,” he said.
“She’s got the bones. Ramp’s still on her. Engines probably rats’ nests by now, but I can hear her.”
“You can hear the boat.”
“In my teeth,” he said. “You know the sound. Deep and dumb and honest.”
“Engines don’t care who we were,” I said.
He tilted his head. “Or who we aren’t anymore.”
We let the water talk for a while. Somewhere under the dock a carp bumped the post and forgot why. The heat pushed at us like an argument we were too tired to win.
“You’re serious,” I said.
“I’m tired of not being,” Harold said. “We buy her for scrap, drag her out of the mud, rip her down to the ribs, work till we hurt, then work till we don’t. Call it rehab for men and metal.”
“And then what.”
“We turn her into the Mekong” he said, like he’d been holding that card for the flourish. “The Mekong of the Ozarks.”
We let people live our story—the jungles, the music, the low wake through the fog. We give ’em the parts that don’t make the movies because you can’t sell quiet to a teenager. We do it our way, no salutes, no speeches. Charge enough to pay for diesel and beer.”
“You want to build a theme park ride?”