The Enemy Below

- Evenin', doc. - Hello, Rimfire.

Doesn't the navy ever run out of potatoes?

This ship sure don't.

- Evenin', Doctor. - Ellis. Johnny. Hot below.

Sure is. I'm gonna sleep topside tonight.

Not for long. We're getting the tail end of a storm in the midwatch.

A man can't plan much ahead at all, can he?

Not much.

All right, break it up. Make room for a workin' sailor.

Just keep workin', man.

You're lucky you don't get it on your heads.

Come and get it, you hungry buzzards.

Here's another one.

Who's got a light?

Those sharks.

- Ain't they nasty things? - They're just fish.

Corky, what do you think of the captain they sent to take old Pinky's place?

I ain't supposed to think.

You know somethin'? He ain't left his cabin since we left Trinidad.

What's he doing? Playing acey-deucy by himself?

I'll tell you what he's doin'.

He's seasick! That's what the navy's comin' to.

Seasick feather merchants takin' the place of regular navy.

Man, I just hope this guy knows port from starboard, that's all.

You know what I'd do if I was you, Robbins?

I'd just put in for the skipper's job if I was you.

All right. Did you have your laugh?

Well, now I'm gonna tell you somethin'.

The guy who walks that bridge has got your neck in his hands,

and don't you forget it.

Thanks, Salvador.

- You've got us down 200, partner. - Sorry, sir.

- Six spades. - I thought I could do it, sir.

- Well, don't go off half-cocked again. - No, sir.

- Any sign of the weather, doc? - Filling up in the east.

Jolly, jolly. And I've got the watch.

- I pass. - What? Haven't you got anything?

- Why don't you just look at his hand? - Well, I have to help him along.

- I suppose I could try a heart, sir. - He supposes he could try a heart, sir.

- Two clubs. - Captain Murrell still holed up, doc?

- Far as I know. - Three diamonds.

They might have sent us a captain who had his sea legs.

I guess they do the best they can.

I don't see why they didn't move Ware up, He's been exec long enough.

Mackeson, the only craft I ever commanded was a yawl in the Miami yacht races.

The nearest I ever came to winning was 29th.

The navy was desperate enough to take me,

but not foolish enough to let me sail away by myself.

- Beats me how I ever got this far. - Money.

- I know you're rich. - Don't be bitter, grandpa.

Your bid, Mackeson.

- Four spades. - I'm not bitter. I just wanna go home.

When I've bought a ranch in Nevada, I never expect to see water again.

- Ensign Merry? - Sir?

Your bid.

- Careful. - Yes, sir. I'm thinking about it.

- Your mouth's open, Ensign. - Sir?

- Are you gonna bid? - Six diamonds.

- Six diamonds? - I'm just backing you up, sir.

You are deliberately distracting my partner.

Pass and double.

All right, Mr. Merry. Dummy.

This Murrell seems like a cold sort of a fish.

Captain Murrell oughtn't to be here at all. He's as weak as a kitten.

A man who gets his ship torpedoed

and spends 25 days on a raft in the North Atlantic

oughtn't to have to hit the ball again with only a few weeks in the hospital.

I guess there aren't enough commanding officers to go around.

Well, at least they gave him an easy ship.

Boy, easy's no word for it. Listen, he'll get more rest on this boat...

- Ship. - Ship, boat. What's the difference?

He'll still get more rest here than he would if he were in a feather bed.

Now, me, I'd like something to happen once in a while.

If the navy ever gets a load of this crew in battle, they'll send us back to boot camp.

I'll look ridiculous with my head shaved.

Kid, couldn't you have indicated clubs? Then I could have gone to no-trump.

We are going down again. And doubled.

Sorry, sir.

All right.

- Your lead, Mackeson. - Now hear this.

Lay before the mast all eight o'clock reports.

Darken ship. The smoking lamp is out on all weather decks.

We'll slow her down a little.

All engines ahead two-thirds.

Bridge, Radar. I've got a spook.

- Radar contact, Mr. Ware. - What?

- Radar contact. - Good heavens.

- Bridge, aye? - Definite spook, sir.

- Strong enough to plot? - Range: 12,000 off the starboard bow.

- Get on the plot, Mackeson. - Captain, aye.

Radar reports a contact off starboard bow, sir.

- Run a plot on it. - Plot's working, sir.

- Then head for the target. - Aye aye, sir.

- Zigzag, sir? - What would you say, mister?

Me? Well, negative zigzag, sir. Give the plot a chance to steady on.

That's right, mister.

- Give me that again, Radar. - Did you get it?

Estimated target's course 140,

speed ten knots, bearing 124 true.

Bring her around to 124. All engines ahead flank.

- Can't seem to make up his mind. - Maybe he wants to see if I'm awake.

- What's the rush? - I don't know, but we're sure juicin' it up.

What's the word?

Radar's got somethin'. We're going after it.

- What's up? - He says they got a bogey.

Hurry. Come on, wake up.

- We're going after it. - You don't wanna miss it.

Gangway.

Gangway, please.

I was here first. Gangway yourself.

Excuse me, sir. Break it up. Let the captain in.

- What's all the crowd about, sailor? - Well, sir,

I guess we don't get much excitement aboard this ship.

- Keep your seat. What's your name? - Andrews, sir.

- What do you make of it? - I don't know, Captain.

- Our speed's rattling the set. - Guess. You're the operator.

It's doing ten knots.

It's got some power, but it's too small a spook to be a heavy vessel.

It might be a fishing smack, or it might be the conning tower of a sub, sir.

- Bridge. Lieutenant Ware. - Mr. Ware.

We're about to lose radar contact at the rate we're going.

Reduce speed to speed of target and get on its tail.

At this distance, we'll make visual contact at daybreak.

- Shall I shake the ship out for a standby? - Not much shaking out to be done.

But ready underwater search gear. If this spook is a U-boat,

he might pull the plug, and we'll have to go after him.

- Who's the senior radarman, Andrews? - That's me, sir.

You track the target.

Any turn or change in speed, no matter how small, don't miss it.

I'll stick on him, don't you worry, Captain.

All right, I won't.

If anybody's gonna be caught with his pants down, it oughtn't to be us.

Seems like he knows his business, to me.

Feather merchant, that's all I got to say.

Signal is to stern, Herr Kapitän. 8,000 meters.

It's either a ship or a false echo.

You've lost it.

It comes and goes.

The sea return makes it difficult to keep the image.

There, Kapitän. There it comes.

Port 20 degrees, Schwaffer.

- Target's course changing to port. - Target's turning left, Captain.

25... 20 degrees.

Maintain your present speed. Steady as you go.

May I ask what your procedure is, sir?

If this is an enemy ship, our signal may be on his oscillator

and he's trying to feel us out -

make a couple of turns, see if we change position.

If we can hold an unchanging position behind him,

he may mistake us for a ghost echo on these heavy seas.

- The signal does not change, Herr Kapitän. - Starboard 40 degrees.

- Target's turning sharp starboard, sir. - Can you estimate the degree, Andrews?

- 40... 45 degrees, Captain. - All engines stop.

You think it might be a U-boat, sir?

Wiggling like one. He may take the bait.

- If he doesn't, he'll crash-dive. - Excuse me, sir.

It holds the same place, Herr Kapitän.

Resume course 140.

Yes?

He's on the hook. He's come back into course 140.

- All engines ahead two-thirds, steer 140. - Aye aye, sir.

Good, Andrews. The target won't be satisfied with one check.

Look for him to make a turn.

Or he may slow down or speed up. Thank you.

- Sir? - Well?

- Do you wanna send a dispatch, sir? - Why? Are you anxious to take one?

- No, sir. I just thought... - We have to keep radio silence tonight.

We might tip our hand to the target. But I'll get one out in the morning, OK?

Yes, sir.

This is the captain. I guess you're all waiting for some kind of word.

We're tracking an unidentified ship.

We're going to try to stay on his tail until morning.

We will breakfast early, and go to battle stations at 0530.

Don't be surprised if we tangle with a pig-boat a little after dawn.

Do your jobs efficiently and we'll chalk one up for the Haynes. That's all.

I reckon we'll just drop an egg right down his periscope.

That'll be the end of one more Nazi, huh?

Or he'll just pop a fish right in our guts, and that'll be the end of this tin can.

- Man, a sub ain't no match for us. - They ain't?

Then how come they hunt U-boats with three destroyers

workin' together up in the North Atlantic?

Yeah. How come?

Your bet.

- Whose watch is next? - Lieutenant Kunz, Herr Kapitän.

Have him come here.

Lieutenant Kunz, report forward.

You wanted me, Herr Kapitän?

Ja, Kunz. Yours is the next watch on topside.

We have a signal on the FMB. I think it's a false echo.

But to check its reaction, you will zigzag twice an hour until daybreak.

If it moves in closer, you will awaken me immediately.

Schwaffer.

Come in, Heini.

That Kunz annoys me. Remind him that we do not salute at sea.

He is new, Herr Kapitän. He will tire of it.

He is new? Like our new Germany. A machine.

Herr Kapitän. You think we are wise in risking that image to be a false echo?

Wise? Expedient. Time is important, Heini,

and we would travel too slowly underwater.

In 48 hours, we rendezvous with Raider M.