Run Silent, Run Deep

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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."