The Tybee Bomb

On February 5, 1958 the USAF lost a 7,600 pound Mark 15 nuclear bomb in Wassaw Sound off the Georgia Coast.

How could this happen you ask?

Apparently during a practice exercise, a fighter plane from Hunter Airfield collided with the B-47 bomber carrying the bomb. To protect the aircrew from a possible detonation, the bomb was jettisoned.

Some say the bomb was a functional nuclear weapon, and others say it was disabled, but some folks “in the know” ain’t saying much at all.

The military immediately went looking for it and, after a few months of searching, decided the bomb was sunk 15 feet down in mucky-muck somewhere out-that-a-way. They said, although it wasn’t armed and posed no threat, it was best not to disturb it.

It has never been officially confirmed to be a ticking-time nuclear bomb, but after all, a bomb is a bomb and there’s a very small chance that it might mysteriously one day unexpectedly blow up and nuke Tybee Island, Little Tybee, Wassaw Island and give all the rich Yankees on Skidaway Island radiation burns.


To locals, the missing nuke is referred to as The Tybee Bomb. And practically every low country fisherman will say they know exactly where the bomb is, but after sixty years nobody’s dared disturb it because…

Everybody knows it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, and it’s probably a good idea to let a nuclear bomb lie undisturbed in Wassaw Sound out-that-a-way somewhere.

Books By JK Bovi



The Haunted Poet – Conrad Aiken

Some hauntings don’t necessarily take place in a house, a graveyard, a brewery or a hotel room. Sometimes a haunting occurs within. Such was the unfortunate case of Savannah born poet, Conrad Aiken.

His father and mother moved to Savannah from “up north” and settled into a nice brick home. Dr. Aiken was a brain surgeon and his wife a popular socialite. But the Aiken house was not a happy home. Conrad’s parents fought a lot and as time went on Conrad’s father turned dark and volatile.

One night, as the eleven-year-old Conrad lay in his bed he heard his parents arguing. He heard his father count to three, followed by one gunshot, and then another. Conrad ran to his parent’s room to find them both dead. His father had killed his mother, then shot himself in the head.

Little Conrad was sent “up north” to live with family. He graduated from Harvard and eventually became an American Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, short-story writer, novelist, and a critic. But the tragedy of his youth would haunt him and his writings forever. He was fearful he’d be afflicted by the insanity that his father had succumbed to. His poems were sometimes dismal and hauntingly sorrowful.

In his later years, Conrad moved back to Savannah, and morbidly odd as it may be, he bought and lived in the house next door to the family home. He spent many days in Bonaventure Cemetery by his parent’s graves.

One day he saw a ship named Cosmos Mariner pass by. When he inquired about where the ship was going he was told “destination unknown”. He decided that would be the perfect epitaph for his own grave. Being a true Savannahian, he selected his grave stone made in to a seating bench to invite visitors to sit down and share a drink with him.

I have in fact visited Conrad Aiken’s grave in Bonaventure Cemetery. I sat upon the bench and raised a glass of wine to toast The Haunted Poet to bid him a peaceful journey home.

Because we are all Cosmos Mariners sailing among the stars to unknown destinies.

Books By JK Bovi