"I just wanted to put them on the front porch, but the City of Middletown said, 'absolutely not,' even though there was nothing in them, just the shells," Bastura said. "The city wanted no part of them."

Too bad, because as the torpedoes would made Bastura's Submarine Library and Museum more visible to passersby. Without them, there's little to distinguish his modest duplex at 440 Washington St. from the neighboring houses.

"I had a heck of a time finding the place, it being in a house like that," said C.J. "Tex" Garrett of Ledyard, who years ago donated a submariner's ring, some photographs and other memorabilia to Bastura, most of it from his tour on Finback in the late 1940s. "I think I went by it twice before I finally figured out where it was."

Bastura, who never served on a submarine, has amassed an eclectic collection that includes some key pieces of submarine history: a life ring from the Albacore, one of 52 U.S. submarines lost in World War II; a bronze medallion commemorating the launching of the Nautilus, the world's first nuclear submarine; a flag from the World War I-era submarine R-1; a hat and three-star shoulderboards from Vice Adm. Fritz J. Harlfinger, one of the officers who supervised the removal of gold and silver from the Philippine treasury as the Japanese approached.

There's a ship's clock off the Guavina, donated by a guy in Virginia. A napkin holder off the Sea Lion, donated by someone in Maryland. A name board off the Sarda, from a man in New York. A battle lantern off the Pollock, donated by a West Haven supporter.

There's a battle flag hoisted by Carlson's Raiders, Marines put ashore by submarines in the Gilbert Islands in 1942.

"It's got a few bullet holes, but otherwise it's in pretty good shape," Bastura observed.

"I've got spotters, connections, all over the mainland," Bastura said with a laugh. "Any time anybody sees something on the loose, at a garage sale or auction or whatever, they contact me, and I contact whoever has it, and we talk."

He guards the identity of his spotters as tightly as submariners guard their secrets.

"When somebody asks me who my connections are, I say, 'I don't know, I guess I'm just lucky,' " Bastura said. "It's nobody's business who my spotters are."

But if Bastura is jealous with his sources, he is generous with his information. Anybody is free to come in and look over his artifacts or pore through his files.

"I think what that guy has done is just outstanding," said James L. Christley of Lisbon, a retired senior chief electrician's mate and noted submarine historian. "He's done a service to the submarine force that I don't think a lot of people recognize, and he's done it without any expectation of reward other than the fact that it's fun."

John Wynn, a former submarine sonar technician, and secretary for the Internet-based Lockwood chapter of the U.S. Submarine Veterans Inc., said the 200 electronically linked members have so much respect for Bastura and what he does that they bought him a high-speed color copier to help him with the research requests that he gets.

"People write to him and ask him questions and he goes off and does the research," Wynn said. "But then he'd have to go downtown to make copies. When I asked him what we could do for him, the only thing he said was, 'How about a copier?' "

Bastura said he didn't want anything for himself.

"All I really want is to keep the place going as it is," he said. "Because of the tight quarters, there's not a lot more I could display. But there are a couple more rooms upstairs. Someday, maybe I can fill them up, too."

He'll take anything

"I want anything I can get pertaining to submarines," Bastura said. "They can be U.S., English " I'm not prejudiced, as long as it pertains to submarines. I'll take anything anybody offers."

Bastura said his interest in submarines surfaced when he was about 9 years old. A local store had a book of cardboard cutouts that you could pop out and assemble into three S-class boats and three R-class boats. He would take them outside and spend hours playing at undersea warfare.

"One time I left them out and it rained, and that was the end of my submarine fleet," Bastura said.

In 1954, when he was 21, he was heading home from Rhode Island when he drove through Groton and discovered the submarine museum that Electric Boat once maintained. He went inside and met the curator, the wife of a submariner on the Sablefish, and he resolved to start his own collection of clippings.

But it quickly grew into much more. He started making home movies, taking photographs of submarines departing and returning to Groton, and gathering any submarine memorabilia that he could.

As people learned of his undertaking, they called to ask if he'd be interested in whatever their fathers had left in attics. An inclinometer, a device that shows how steep a boat is diving, from the Bowfin. A ladder from the forward torpedo room of the Cavalla. Two hand"painted logos, one for the Aspro and the other from the Devilfish, drawn by artists at the Walt Disney studios.

And wall after wall filled with ship plaques and patches, from submarines and from squadrons, support ships and bases, more than a thousand in all, from the C-1, the ninth U.S. Navy submarine, launched in 1906.

Bastura has a display case filled with models, most of them hand-carved by Bastura himself, including one of the USS Trout, cut from a railroad tie, that requires two men to move. Several models have been donated, including one of the USS Seawolf, from Frederick B. Warder, the "Fearless Freddie Warder" of submarine legend.

Warder commanded the Seawolf before it was lost in World War II, later advanced to rear admiral and commanded the Navy's sound lab in New London. When he retired, personnel at the sound lab presented him with the model, which has a movable propeller, periscope and dive planes. Warder donated it to Bastura along with the uniform he wore on Seawolf.

But Bastura is most proud of what he calls his "goodie room" for research and reference. An entire wall is devoted to books and videotapes on the submarine service, and more than a dozen four-drawer file cabinets are filled to overflowing with reports, news articles and any other information he could assemble.

Color coded files

The files are color coded " blue for gas or diesel boats, red for nuclear, etc. " and cover the force from the Navy's first undersea boat, the Holland, to the recently named North Carolina, which is still taking shape on the building ways at Electric Boat. Just the index for his research holdings take up 10 thick three-ring binders.

In addition, Bastura has separate files on tenders, submarine bases, squadrons, and anything else associated with submarines. A "classics" section has information on submarines dating back as far as 1620 Amsterdam.

He already has arranged for the entire collection to go to the St. Mary's Submarine Museum in Georgia, near the Trident submarine base at Kings Bay.

"I checked around different places, and most of them either didn't have the facilities to house everything that I have here, and I didn't want to give it to a museum that doesn't cater entirely to submarines," Bastura said.

Plenty of visitors

He estimates he had 2,300 visitors last year, including tourists, school groups, submarine veterans, and just curious passersby. In the 1960s, he kept a guest log book, but quickly abandoned the practice.

"Those books were filling up so fast, and I'd have to spend five or six dollars for a new one each time, and before you knew it that one would be full, too," Bastura said. "I figured there were better things I could spend my money on."

One of the lesser-known resources in Bastura's collection is a biography, never published, of Simon Lake, who invented his own submarine in the late 19th century, though it never gained prominence because the Navy first purchased the USS Holland from Electric Boat.

Bastura said he approached Thomas Alva Edison Lake to learn more about his father, who had died in 1945.

"After his father passed away, he was so harassed, so bothered by reporters and authors and the general public, he turned into something of a recluse. He was afraid to leave the house," Bastura said. "But he took a liking to me, he trusted me, to the point where I was the only one he would allow to cross his threshold."

Using his two-finger typing skills, Bastura churned out a 116-page manuscript, and thought about having it published.

"After hearing what it would cost me, I said, 'forget it,' but I still keep it around for a reference," Bastura said.

Bastura has been inducted as an honorary member of Submarine Veterans of World War II, and has managed to charm his way into a few rides on diesel-electric and early nuclear submarines.

"Someday, before I die, I would love to get a ride on a Seawolf-class submarine," Bastura said. "If I can do that, my life is complete."

Email:  r.hamilton@theday.com