Apparently, there is a lost submarine in Charleston Harbor. The Coast Guard is escorting it back out to sea.
Reminded me of a story my mother told me. Many years ago, when my mom was a wee young lass, the family was living on Folly Beach. My grandfather had left the house before dawn (probably to go peach inspecting or fishing). Granny was cooking breakfast for mom and her sister (I don't believe sister #3 or dear Auntie D as she is known here, was actually in this world yet). My mother's Uncle Dolph was staying with them. He had a broken leg and the heavy plaster cast made sleeping in those pre-air conditioner days sort of miserable. So he was up early, outside on the boardwalk, enjoying the fresh morning breeze off the ocean.
Mom heard him call to Granny, "Get the shotgun, Virginia."
As she got the gun and shells, Granny called out to her brother-in-law, "Is it a raccoon?" (rabid raccoons were not uncommon.)
"No," Dolph replied, "It's the Germans."
Granny sent my mother and her sister into the back bedroom and told them not to come out. She then filled her apron pockets with shotgun shells and went down to the beach to meet the oncoming Germans.
Turned out to be our Navy practicing for the D-Day Invasion.
Pity because if it had been the Germans, Granny would have ended the war right then and there.
Don't mess with a country raised Southern girl!