“The Jeermons are Coming!” Whales in War

On August 8th, 1918 I became 5 years old while we were visiting my grandparents in East Dennis on Cape Cod. Their house was perched high above Sesuit Harbor, allowing a good view of the beaches on both sides.

One morning, when the tide was almost completely low, I saw what seemed to be two large boats stranded just below the high water mark. I ran to find my grandfather to tell him what I’d just seen. He said he knew what they were, but he would not tell me until we got down there. All six of us, including both grandparents, my parents, my younger brother Rich, and I soon set out on the quarter mile hike down to the beach. Walking downhill, we could not see the water until we rounded the last turn and then everything came into view. 

Two black whales were just lying on the beach several hundred feet from the water at low tide. At first I was afraid to get near such huge animals, but when I saw them motionless, I walked gingerly around each of them. They were at least 30 feet long, and their heads pointing toward land were about 5 feet thick.

My grandfather touched one them and said, “He is still alive. Come over and feel him!”

The skin felt like fine sandpaper, and there was no slippery scum such as is found on all small fish which are completely covered with scales. Rich and I climbed each whale starting at the horizontal tail and ending at the blowhole on top of the head. The sandpaper texture of the skin was very secure footing, and the flesh twitched each time we took a step. 

(Many years ago I heard that every navy and all the shipbuilders in the world were trying to duplicate this sandpaper surface so that all small boats, large ships and especially submarines could go through water at greater speeds with less power. If they have solved the problem by now, they are keeping it a close secret).

A couple of days later the whales appeared to be dead, and my grandfather hacked off a few steaks from under the layer of blubber. I was standing at the head of the whale while the operation was being performed. Suddenly there was a series of explosions coming from the direction of the Cape Cod Canal. I jumped off the head oto the soft sand and ran toward my mother screaming at the top of my voice, “The Jeermons are coming! The Jeermons are coming!”

My grandmother made an awful stench in the kitchen while frying the whale steaks in what she called a spider. Although they were very tender, nobody swallowed a single mouthful because it tasted very oily and gamey.