Gray Lady Down

Crewman #1: Right ten degrees rudder. Steady 270.

Crewman #2: Right ten degrees rudder. Steady 270. Aye aye, sir.

Crewman #1: All ahead two-thirds. Make turns for eight knots.

Crewman #2: All ahead two-thirds. Make turns for eight knots. Aye aye, sir.

Sonar conn, make a sweep around. Report all contacts.

Crewman on radio: Make sweep around. Report all contacts. Sonar on.

Crewman #3: Rudder is right 10 degrees. Answering all ahead two-thirds, sir.

Very well. Mr Skinner, bring her up to 150 feet.

150 feet. Aye aye, sir.

Make your depth 150 feet. Ten degree up bubble.

Crewman #3:150 feet. Aye aye, sir. Ten degree up bubble. Aye aye, sir.

Crewman on radio: Sonar conn on. No contact, sir.

Very well. Better make sure radar's ready to go.

- Aye, captain. - Hope we get a nice day up there, captain.

Why not?

Well, xo, after eleven days, er...

Nine hours and eight minutes,

I pronounce this lady one hundred per cent checked out.

- You're gettin' a good boat, Dave. - I'll drink to that.

Crewman #3: Steady on course 270, sir.

Very well. Diving officer, prepare to surface.

Diving officer: Aye aye, sir. Prepare to surface.

Crewman #2: Rig for red. Prepare to surface. Prepare to surface.

Hey, who's gonna bring the captain a cup of coffee?

I'll drink to that, too.

Boy, that fresh air smells good, sir.

Funny feeling,

taking her home for the last time.

We're sure gonna miss you, sir.

Thanks.

Too bad they can't overhaul me, too.

Chug along up here at twelve knots.

Get into new London for lunch.

- Lieutenant, you have the conn. - Yes, sir.

Lieutenant Murphy here. I have the conn.

Captain leaving the bridge.

Crewman on radio: Bridge, radar. [Have contact bearing 315, 6,000 yards,

and closing on course 180, twelve knots.

Radar, bridge. Can't see a thing.

Dense fog at that bearing. Notify me at 3,000 yards.

- (Crackle) - (Engine winding down)

My god, what's wrong now?

No, not again.

That damn thing!

Captain.

We have lost the radar.

Huh?

Check and see if it can be repaired.

Okay.

Captain, we have lost radar. Shouldn't we stop to repair it?

We are sailors, not electricians. We must get to New York.

- (Knocking) - Captain Blanchard: Come in.

- Party's ready to go, sir. - Oh!

What about the guest of honour?

Oh, caruso went to tell him there's a fight in the galley.

That oughta bring him down!

Okay, Mac, he's coming. Now, come on!

- I said vanilla! - I said pistachio!

- I said vanilla! - Pistachio!

Break it up! Hey!

What the hell do you men...

Think...

- (Laughing) - Oh, for Christ's sakes.

I'll have your ass for this, caruso.

I vas only obeying orders, sir.

- (All laughing) - Yeah, that's right, Dave.

We just wanted you to know how we feel about you.

I gotta say, giving you this boat for your first command's

one of the few smart things that computer ever did.

You've been a good exec. You'll make a hell of a skipper.

- Hey, hey! Let's hear it! Let's hear it! - (Applause)

This is, er...

Yeah, it's from all of us.

- Nothing's gonna jump at me, is there? - (All laughing)

Ah!

- Yeah! - All right!

I, er...

Well, for a fella who's never been at a loss for words,

I'd just like to say that, er...

- I'm at a loss for words. - (All laughing)

- I know just how to break this in, though. - Mm-hmm.

Monday, I'll go pipe the new squadron commander into his swivel chair.

- Oh, yeah. - All right. Yes, hey, hey!

Congratulations, captain.

The fog is getting worse.

The lookouts must rotate hourly.

Crewman on radio: Bridge, radar. Lhave contact Alpha holding on bearing 315.

Range, 3, 000 yards and closing.

Bridge, aye.

Helm, bridge. Come right to course 315.

Captain to the bridge.

Just as a way of sort of wrapping this all up, men, I just wanna say to...

Crewman on radio: Captain to the bridge.

- Blanchard: Gangway, Roberts. - Move it, move it!

- Let's go ahead and get a fix, Larson. - Aye aye, sir.

- Soundings, please? - Soundings, aye aye, sir.

Put the low pressure blower on all the main ballast tanks for ten minutes.

(Blowing whistle) {Chuckung)

Thanks, fellas.

- What's up? - Captain, we got a contact at 315 degrees,

3,000 yards on course 270.

That's a collision course with us. I've come round to 315.

That ought to take us well astern of him.

- Range? - Radar, bridge.

Range to contact Alpha.

Got a ship out there doesn't know the rules of the road.

Crewman on radio: Bridge, radar. Range, 1,000 yards and closing.

Contact Alpha has turned to new heading 135.

- Captain, he's... - I know.

Helm, bridge. Right full rudder. All ahead full.

- Sound the danger signal. - Aye, captain.

- (Alarm blaring) - Captain!

- Jesus Christ, he's on top of us! - All ahead flank!

Captain!

Look ahead. Come starboard, starboard.

Hit the collision alarm!

- (Third alarm blaring) - Crew man: Collision imminent! Collision imminent!

- (Yelling continues) - (Alarms continue)

We're sinking!

All stations, this is Neptune! Neptune!

Blanchard: Secure that door.

There are men back there!

Secure it.

Get out of there! Get out!

All stations, this is Neptune! Neptune! We're hit!

- Forty degree up bubble, sir. - Depth, 100.

- I need propulsion! - We have none, sir.

- Engine room, conn. - Depth, 110.

- Main control, conn. - 120. And 130 feet.

- Engine room, conn. Can you hear me? - Depth, 140.

- And 150. - Main control, conn.

- Can you hear me? - 160 feet.

- And 170. - Engine room, conn.

Depth, 180.

- 190. - Engine room, conn.

Crewman on radio: Engine room, conn.

Can you hear me?

Engine room, conn. Can you hear me?

Engine room, conn.

Main engine room, conn. Main engine room, conn.

Chief, get me a damage report from the engine room!

Trying, sir. No answer.

Main engine room, conn.

Can you hear me?

Main engine room, acknowledge. Main engine room, acknowledge.

Crewman: 270 feet.

Blow main ballast tanks. Blow safeties. Blow auxiliaries.

Blowing all ballast tanks.

Full dive on bow planes. Try to get her ievelled off.

Full dive on bow planes. Aye aye, sir.

- We're slipping back, sir. - Fifty degree up bubble.

Can't control our depth, sir.

- Secure blowing, and kill that horn. - Blowing secured.

- What's the depth under us? - (Alarm stops)

Two thousand feet, sir, with drop-offs...

- Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! - Harris!

We crush at twelve hundred goddamn feet!

Stow that crap, sailor, now!

Depth, 800.

Did we get off a radio signal?

We tried to, sir, but we may have been too far under.

Fathometer's reading a ledge or something.

- Blanchard: How deep? - I can't tell, sir.

- We're sinking too fast. - Thirteen hundred feet!

- We're going to hit it. - We're gonna bottom out.

Grab something and hold on.

- Oh, Jesus! - (Groaning)

Help me.

She's holding.

She's holding!

Are we gonna crush, sir?

- I guess not. - (Sighing)

- Fourteen hundred and fifty feet! - (Men groaning)

They really built this baby.

- Thank god. - God and general dynamics.

- High pressure air system holding? - Air holding, sir.

Have engineering check it, and put a watch on it.

- Yes, sir. - I gotta find out how bad we're hurt.

- Sir! - Get him up forward.

- Visual check on that, chief. - Aye aye, sir.

Get doc in here.

He was... he was aft, sir,

along with Kelly, Frazier...

All right. Get page then. Anybody. We got people hurt in here.

Aye aye, sir.

This is the captain.

We're bottomed out on a shelf here, at, er...

Fourteen hundred and fifty feet.

Looks like we're hurt pretty bad, but our hull is holding.

The reactor's shut down. Our engine spaces may be flooded,

but we have battery power for most systems, including air.

Whoever hit us must have radioed,

so, by this time, Norfolk has to know what's happened.

Help's probably already on the way.

So, what we do is, er...

Sit tight till they get that rescue vehicle down on us,

then all take an elevator ride.

That's all for now.

Dave, I thought...

Congratulations, skipper.