There was a sudden tenseness in n Laura as she looked quickly from Jim to me, and a studied casualness as her hand sought his. I stood up.
"Guess I'd better go find out who robbed what bank," I said, and marched into the next room feeling a little heroic and a little foolish.
I'll never forget the look on Laura's face, and the round horror in her eyes, when I came back. "I'll have to go right back to the ship," I said. "Jim, there's really not much either of us can do, but you know what the regulations say. You'd better take Laura back to her hotel and help her get the next train."
Jim nodded without speaking, but Laura interposed quickly, taking his arm in an unconsciously revealing gesture as she did so. "I'd appreciate help finding the nearest bus from the submarine base, but I can certainly catch a train in town by myself. The place for Jim is right back on the S-16 with you, Rich, and the quicker he gets there the better. Why, you might get orders to go to sea right away, — and-never come back!"
For all her brave words, Laura's chin trembled as she finished, and the last words were uttered in a sob. She hid her face on Jim's shoulder. Awkwardly he patted her, put his arm around her, and suddenly her shoulders shook with deep, uncontrolled sobs, as she clung to him.
"Stow it, Laury," Jim gently whispered. "It's a bad break for a lot of people, a lot of them must have been killed this morning. It just can't be helped what it does to us." He pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket, handed it to her.
Controlling herself, Laura pushed herself away from Jim, sat upright. "I'm all right. I'm sorry, Jim, — it's just, — just-so horrible. Everything's so terribly mixed up, — nothing will ever be right again!"
They had completely forgotten my presence, and somehow I felt myself an intruder. "Excuse me a minute," I mumbled.
"I'll be right back."
At the bar old Homer was talking into a telephone. "Yes- sir! Right away, sir!" he was saying as I arrived. Then he picked up a microphone beside it.
"There will be a bus leaving the front of the Club for New London in ten minutes," he announced. "All visitors are requested please to leave the base, by order of the Base, Commander." Homer had a melodious Negro voice just suited to the announcing system speakers, and I could hear it resounding through the building. In a few minutes there was a small exodus taking place.
Laura was completely herself again as Jim put her on the bus. It was a sober crowd, and sober good-byes were said. I shook hands quickly so as to get out of their way, waited quietly a few feet distant. When Jim approached he said nothing, but his mouth showed a trace of lipstick, and his face was grim and downcast.
Tom was waiting for us on deck near the gangway as we approached the S-16. He wore a heavy overcoat against the frigid wind sweeping the river, had buckled a service forty- five automatic around his ample middle, and the gangway watch was similarly armed. I noticed with approval, also, that he had stationed two additional men on watch, one on the bow and another on the stern, likewise wearing pistols.
"Are those guns loaded?" I asked him.
"Yes, sir!" said Tom. "A full clip in each gun but none in the chamber. I've instructed the sentries they have to pull the slide back before the first shot. Besides that, each man has two loaded clips in his belt."
I nodded approval. "What instructions have you given them?"
"Remain on their feet and alert for sabotage or other unusual incidents in the river or on the beach," he answered.
"Be particularly alert for any unusual movement in the water at night. Challenge anything suspicious immediately in. a loud voice. If no answer, or not satisfactory, draw gun and fire one shot in the air. If still not satisfactory, shoot to hit.
By that time the rest of us will be up here."
"Good man!" I said. "Where did you pick up all these ideas so quickly?"
Tom looked pleased. "I was in the old S-31 in China when the Japs's sunk the Panay," he said. "The place was swarming with bumboats, and we expected any minute that a whole gang of Japs would come jumping out of one of them."
I looked up and down the river, and at the other submarines peacefully tied up to their docks. It was hard to imagine that, for all we knew, at that very moment sabotage attempts were being planned against them, perhaps actually being carried out.
My watch said two-thirty when Captain Blunt showed up.
His manner was incisive and to the point. What additional, security measures had we taken? What percentage of our crew was aboard? How much fuel and provisions did we have on hand, and how many warshots were there in the torpedo rooms? He made notes quickly in a battered note- book and departed as abruptly as he had come, en route to the next boat of his squadron.
I was grateful to Tom for having enabled S-16 to come through from the inquisition with credit. Some of the other submarines, I could see, were still getting men topside, and I was morally certain that some of them had few, if any, officers on board in addition to the duty officer. Not that we would have been much better off ourselves, had Jim and I not happened to sit within earshot of a radio after lunch.
I looked at my watch again. Two-forty. It had taken us just forty minutes to go to war.
But neither the Japanese nor the Germans attacked us, and after a few days, with the imposition of additional security patrols on the base and in the river, and more men on watch at a time in the submarines, life was permitted to resume much of its former habits. Except that the frenetic pace of our under-way operations had virtually doubled.
So far as Jim and Laura were concerned, it had not been good-by after all. We received no orders to leave New Lon- don, continued doing exactly what we had been doing, with less time off than ever. And next week Laura resumed her weekly visits to New London.
By Christmas time, when the matter of Jim's qualification for command came up, I should not have been surprised at learning that as a contingent plan, he and Laura would very shortly thereafter be married. Before the beginning of the war a more leisurely and considered approach, with announce- ments, parties, and the like, would naturally have been in order. But now all such plans had to go into the discard.
Many couples were marrying with only a few weeks in prospect during which they could be together. I should have realized what the prospect of an assured year in New London would mean to two people in love.
Jim had figured it out pretty accurately. He had correctly guessed the reason behind my sudden decision to recommend him, and his analysis of its effect was equally correct. There was not much the Bureau of Naval Personnel could do except let him stay in New London, while he waited until it was willing to give him a fleet boat of his own. Lucky was the couple, during these tortured times, who had this indefinitely long prospect to look forward to!
But I couldn't prevent a twinge of jealousy, or envy, when Jim gave me the news of his and Laura's plans. And then when I had to destroy it all, there came the strangest feeling of nakedness, as though for an instant he had looked right into my innermost soul, — had seen there things I hadn't even admitted to myself, or suspected until that moment, which he hated me for.
4
The week immediately following Jim's failure to qualify for submarine command was an extremely un- comfortable one for everybody in the S-16. He fell into a cold sullenness which included everyone in the ship, and he spoke to no one except when absolutely required to. When on watch his orders were given in loud, defiant tones as if daring anyone to question them. There was no more of the cheerful banter which had been his habit, and I don't think he addressed ten words to me during the whole time.
We were back at the refit pier to complete what we could of our interrupted repairs, hence both Saturday and Sunday, for the second time since our arrival in New London, were scheduled "alongside." Friday afternoon at the close of working hours, still saying not a word to anyone, Jim dressed in civilian clothes and disappeared. The customary "Permission to go ashore, sir" was conspicuously absent, and we did not see him again until Monday morning when he arrived
precisely fifteen minutes prior to our scheduled time for getting under way.
Next week, amid the rain and sleet of the winter's first storm, was no better. He took his turn on the bridge without a word, did what was required of him, and no more. When it was his turn to get the ship under way or bring her in at night, I had to spend long, uncomfortable, silent periods on the bridge with him, and twice when, following our long- standing custom, I went up to relieve him for a few minutes during long stretches of watch, he refused me with a curt "No, thank you." Keith and Tom, of come, also felt the strain keenly, though we did not discuss it, and the rest of the crew's unwonted quietness showed they felt it too. Jim had been popular with them.
Miller and Kane had accepted my dictum regarding Jim without question or comment. Roy Savage, though he also said nothing, showed signs of irritation; but I made no explanation. There was really not much to say.
"The Squadron Commander's initial comment, delivered in the process of lighting his pipe, was generous. "You've got to do what your conscience tells you, Rich. I wouldn't want you to recommend someone you don't believe in." That much of it was easy. Then the conversation took an unexpected turn.
"Do you want to disqualify Bledsoe for submarine service?" he asked abruptly, palming the glowing pipe bowl and point- ing the stern at me. "If he's not qualified to take command, he has no right to be an Exec. He's supposed to step into your shoes, you know, if anything happens to you."
I suppose it should have been predictable. I could have foreseen this reaction, should have expected it. I could feel panic growing in me as he waited for my answer. After what I had already done to Jim, — now this. All I could think of was one of Blunt's own aphorisms to the effect that there are times for caution, and times to stand up and be counted. This was one of the latter. I drew a deep breath and shot the works: "Listen, Commodore. It was my fault for recommending Jim Bledsoe prematurely and for not having him ready, not his. There is nothing wrong with him that a little time won't fix. He is an excellent, fully qualified submarine officer, and he will be a credit to the submarine force and to the Navy. He should not be disqualified for submarine duty." I paused worriedly, searching for the clincher. "I'm satisfied with him. I would be willing to have him as my Exec anywhere,"
I ended uncomfortably.
Blunt remained silent for several seconds, tapping the desk with his finger and drawing on the pipe. "Well, you're Bledsoe's skipper and you ought to know, but it is damned near unprecedented for a man's C. O. to withdraw his qualification in the midst of his test. If he can't take responsibility when it comes his way, we don't want him around."
Blunt was known for his you're-on-the-spot way of looking at people and he bent such a gaze on me now. "You should not have recommended him if you did not think him ready for qualification, Richardson," he said slowly. My heart sank to my shoe tops. "Well look at it your way and give Bledsoe the benefit of the doubt, — but this is going to prevent you from getting the boat I promised you. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too, sir," I replied, but this I had been expecting and my heart was pounds lighter as I closed the door of his office behind me.
Life went on in its new groove for several weeks with no appreciable change. Our operations were routine. Jim was efficient, precise, thorough, and unapproachable. He went to New Haven every chance he got. Then the whirlwind hit us.
Captain Blunt was waiting on the dock with a group of three other Captains and three civilians as we pulled in one rainy, cold Thursday evening.
"We want to see you right away, Rich," he shouted as Tom Schultz, whose turn it happened to be, was nosing along- side our dock. "Turn your ship over to your Exec and hop ashore."
This was indeed unusual. I swung over the edge of the bridge and hurried down the ladder rungs, welded to its side, scissored across the wire lifeline on deck, clung to it for a second, measuring the slowly closing intervening dis- tance, then leaped to the dock.
"Lieutenant Commander Richardson, this is Captain Shonard of the Bureau of Ships," said Captain Blunt. I stared at the Commodore, my tarnished Lieutenant's bars only too evident on my shirt collar. "This is Captain Smyth, and Captain Weatherwax"-bringing forward the other two naval officers-"and this is Commander Radwanski, Lieutenant Sprawny, and Lieutenant Dombrowski." The Commodore struggled over the names of the civilians. I shook hands gravely, wondering what this was all about.
"We have to talk. Come up to my office." So saying, the Commodore strode toward the two cars waiting at the head of the dock and there was nothing to do but follow him. I shouted over to Jim, standing sullenly on deck, "Take over, Jim. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Once up in Captain Blunt's office, he as usual got right down to cases and confused me even more.
"Gentlemen," he said, addressing the civilians, "Lieutenant Commander Richardson is the skipper of your new ship."
I almost choked.
The tall civilian, Radwanski, now turned to me and spoke hesitatingly. "We-are-pleased-to-make-your-acquaintance."
He accented all syllables with equal emphasis. "We-hear-you- have-a-fine-sub-marine. We-shall-call-it-Light-ning-Swift." I still had not the vaguest idea what he was talking about.
One of the other civilians came forward, the one introduced as Sprawny. He could hardly speak English at all but man- aged to get out something sounding like, "I am Meckaneeshun of the Blinks-a-wink." Lieutenant Dombrowski merely grinned and nodded his head.
The Squadron Commander took pity on my evident confusion.
"Rich," he said, "these gentlemen are officers in the Free Polish Navy, the Navy Department has sent them up here with instructions to take over the S-16. Their crew will arrive by train in a couple of days. You'll probably get your orders by dispatch tomorrow, but you might as well start thinking about turning her over immediately."
I stared my consternation. Captain Blunt went on: They won't even need much training in your ship. This is the same crew which has been operating the S-17 since we turned her over to them six months ago. The Germans bombed her in dry dock in England and I understand there's little hope of getting her back in commission. They're going to take over your ship as replacement for her. Since the two boats are identical, the S-17-or what's left of her will be an excellent source of spare parts." Radwanski, Dombrowski, and Sprawny all nodded their heads vigorously.
I pulled myself together as well as I could. "How soon do you want us to turn over?" I asked. "There are quite a few outstanding repair and alteration items, and some modifications we've made in the ship."
"That's what we're here for, Richardson," said the Captain who had been introduced as Shonard. "I'm from BuShips, so is Smyth, — and Weatherwax here is from the Bureau of Ordnance. We're going to accomplish your complete list of outstanding repairs, as well as several items we have in mind on our own. This is what we've had in mind for the S-16 all along. You've done a nice job on her."
So this was to be the result of all our work! We had been getting S-16 ready for war, all right, — for somebody else to have the fruit of our labor!
"When is all of this supposed to happen?" I asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "What about my crew?"
"Immediately," said Shonard, "that is, as soon as possible."
Messrs. Radwanski, Dombrowski, and Sprawny grinned and nodded.
Captain Blunt broke in: "I don't blame you for feeling a bit rushed, Rich, but we must cooperate to the best of our ability. Their crew will get here this week end. The three officers will go down to your ship tomorrow to look her over and start making plans. We will terminate your assign- ment to the submarine school as of now and your only duty will be to assist Commander Radwanski in whatever he needs.
You can understand they are anxious to get the S-16, I mean Lightning-Swift into action, and the Navy Department has agreed to turn her over all standing."
I nodded my comprehension, too miserable to do more.
Captain Blunt went on. "Commander Radwanski and his
friends have an appointment with the Admiral. Rich, will you wait here for about three minutes-while I show them to his office-I've got one more thing I want to talk to you about."
He indicated the chair by his desk, led the three Poles to the door, and closed it behind him.
For twice three minutes I sat there, staring at the wall.
Events, or luck, had conspired against me. In my eagerness for a new ship I had put Jim Bledsoe up for his command qualification prematurely. As a direct result his reputation had been damaged, his marriage plans spoiled, and deservedly I had lost his regard. I had made my choice between Jim and the S-16, chosen the latter's welfare as the more important, and now she, too, was gone.
My despondency deepened as Blunt's footsteps came back down the hall and the door opened. He smiled.
You've probably been wondering why I addressed you as Lieutenant Commander. "Well, here it is. Your promotion arrived by AlNav this morning." He handed me a sheet of closely printed mimeograph paper which had the words Al- Nav #12 across the top. "You're listed there. About halfway down."
Then he smiled even more broadly, — an unusual look, for him. "That's not the best of it, either. You're getting the Walrus, — she's just been launched at Electric Boat. Furthermore, the Admiral has decided that the simplest way to put a crew aboard is to transfer the whole S-16 outfit to her with you."
My jaw hung open. My heart bounded as the import of it sank home. But old Blunt wasn't quite done yet: "You don't have to take them all, just those who want to go. Of course, those who don't," His smile, for the second time in my immediate recollection, took on a sardonic glitter.
I don't know how I found my way back to the S-16. Three body blows like these, all made known to me within an hour, were a little out of the ordinary at the very least I called Jim, Tom, and Keith together in the wardroom and they were as flabbergasted as I. The four of us went together to the control room, where I broke the news to the crew.
Turning S-16 over to the Poles was an unmitigated head- ache. Few of them understood English and explaining things was not merely difficult, it was a problem of extraordinary magnitude. Had not most of the Poles already been familiar with the S-17, it would have been impossible.
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