MAY 18th, 1959
It was seconds of utter chaos, but it felt like an eternity.
One moment, he had been leaning over the railing of the port side of the Beaumont, looking at the shining lights of some sort of coastal community, and the next he was thrown into the cold shocking depths of the North Atlantic.
All his senses were in shock. His ears rang, his vision was a confusing swirl of debris and darkness, and every part of his body screamed as the cold waters enveloped him.
Reflexes kicked in and and Gregory twisted himself in the water, looking for something to orient himself. He swam towards the only light he could see, a flickering cluster of stars. He forced his arms to paddle and he kicked towards the distant illumination. As he drew closer, he realized he was looking at burning debris floating on top of the water.
Finally he surfaced, and sucked in as much air as he could. He was already shivering from the cold, making it difficult for him to catch his breath.
He felt one of his hands brush across something as he paddled to keep himself afloat. He pulled it into his vision, hoping it was something that he could hang on to to keep him above the surface. He quickly shoved it away in horror when he realized it was the unmoving form of one of his shipmates.
He thrashed about to tried and get a better read on the situation. He would have to act fast or he would succumb to the cold and slip under the waves for a final time. The Beaumont lay split in twain and the bulk of the ship was very quickly sinking. All around him were shouts and cries of pain from his fellow sailors. Flaming debris littered the surface of the water.
He saw a bright orange object some distance away and began to swim towards it. As he drew closer he saw that it was one of the ship's life-rafts. A voice called out, "Keep swimmin' lad, we'll get you aboard!"
Gregory felt his strength ebb with every stroke, but he somehow kept moving. Once he got within a few meters of the raft, a figure held out an oar for him to grab onto. He was pulled to the edge of the small craft, and then a number of hands grabbed him and hauled him aboard.
He lay flat on his back on the rubber bottom of the raft, trying to catch his breath. He held his shaking hands to his mouth, trying to blow warm air into them in an attempt to warm them up. As he looked upward, all he could see were the stars and his frosty breath escaping into the night.
"Get those clothes off of him, and you, there should be an emergency blanket with the supplies." he heard a voice giving orders. "Somebody is going to have to strip and lay with him to get his body temperature back up."
He felt his uniform being pulled off and he was soon under a Mylar blanket. Soon afterwards he heard someone telling him to shift on his side. He rolled partway over and felt someone get under the blanket next to him, placing his body against his.
He could feel he warmth of the other person begin to flow into him. Someone placed a soft object under his head.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there shivering. He could hear the other sailors talking. Talks about a torpedo hitting the ship. There was a debate from other sailors aboard the raft if they should stay and look for survivors, or to try and row towards shore. The waters had grown very quiet since Gregory had been brought onboard the raft.
Suddenly, the *put-put* of what Gregory recognized as one-cylinder "Make-and-break" engines could be heard in the distance. The sailors aboard the raft grew excited with the knowledge that someone from one of the coastal communities had seen the explosion and was on their way to help enact a rescue.
When the figures onboard the small fishing boats drew nearer, the voices of the sailors aboard the raft turned from excited enthusiasm, to a tenuous silence.
"What in god's name are those?"