The 1991 storm that chose its victims
ON THE night of April 29, slipping inexorably into the 30th, 1991, I stood on the deck of the BNS Osman, a young officer clad in the ceremonial austerity of the Red Sea Rig. It was a moment of professional pride, for I had only recently earned my certificate of competency 鈥� a tangible symbol of merit in a tradition-bound service. I harboured quiet dreams of one day...