Below

This is almost a day behind us.

Well, who are they?

Americans? Brits? Italians?

It doesn't even say.

Well, I think we can assume|they're friendly, Mr. Loomis.

Besides, it doesn't appear|to be a suggestion, does it?

What the hell?

Might get a Silver Star|out of this patrol yet.

Just have Coors plot it out.

Gunners mate standing by, sir.

Stow the weapons.|They're British.

...You can tell that from here?|...It's the sail.

The krauts use white on their|lifeboats. The Brits use red.

Don't they teach you that|in OCS, ensign?

Afraid not, but I can recite|the submariners' motto in Latin.

Radar contact... starboard|beam, seven miles out, sir.

God damn it!

What if they see us?

Well, they're pouring on|the coal for somebody.

All ahead... emergency.|Rudder to midship.

Crew to battle stations.

All ahead... emergency.|Rudder to midship.

All crew to battle stations.

All right,|do this at flank speed!

I want you to grab|what's breathing on that boat

and you leave|everything else behind!

Stand by to board survivors.

I got him! I got him!

Wounded coming down.

Next man, let's go.

Come on!

There's a warship approaching,|guys.

Let's move! Move!|I ntroductions later!

Ow! Ow! I'm going, okay?!

Next man. Next m...

What have we here?

Let's pull the plug.

...Periscope depth.

Periscope depth,|make your depth 65 feet.

Make depth 6-5 feet.

Bleed air in the boat.

Bleed air in the boat.

All hatches indicate closed.

All vents indicate open.

Pressure in the boat.

Pressure in the boat.

It's a two-stacker...

about 3,000 tons.

It's not a friendly.

Possible Z-class.

If it is, rear recs,|no side throwers,

four 5-inch guns,|grapple hooks.

Fast screws, Mr. Brice.

30 knots or better.

2-5-0 feet.

Make it 2-5-0 feet.

...2-5-0 feet.|...Hard left rudder.

Hard left rudder.

Live to fight another day.

Smart move.

Three survivors... Brits...|and get this...

one's a woman.

Three Brits... one's a skirt.

Three limeys... one's a female.

Hey.

Three Brits... one female.

Guys, listen up.

We've got three survivors...|all Brits.

One's a woman, eh?

Hey, look lively.|Woman onboard.

Hey, Hoag, spread the news...|three tea bags,

and I hear one's, uh,|bazooma.

We got ourselves a filly?

Ohh!

Sweet holy Jesus.

You're gonna wanna hear this.

Hey, boys... here's the news.

Front page...

we got three redcoats,|and guess what.

One of them's a bleeder.

Aw, great.|That's all this boat needs...

another piece of rotten luck.

Yeah, well,|if it means you guys

finally wash the butt squirt|outta your shorts,

I'm all for it.

So what exactly happened|to your shi...

Um... your ship?

Hospital ship.

We were attacked two nights ago.

Two nights?

I'm... I'm sorry.|My brain's a bit foggy.

Although I'm reasonably sure|my name's Claire Page.

The rest of the details|will emerge, I'm sure.

That's just a whale.

It's okay, really.

The sounds down here|still get to me, too.

Make a hole.|Comin' through. Make a hole.

Yow.|Mind your pretty toes.

Best-Iookin' bad luck|I ever saw.

Doesn't look good, sir.

Why don't you get|those clothes off of him

and see if you can get|a better look at the wounds?

I can dress the wounds.

Other than that, I think|it's best to leave him be.

Okay. All right.

Maybe I didn't make myself|clear.

I saw it.

It crossed the moon's reflection|just before the explosion.

Yes, it was dark, but I...|I did see it.

It wasn't a mine.

I-It was a U-boat.

What class?

Type 7?

Was it an older boat|or one of their newer ones?

Um...

Like this?|Clean at the bow?

...You know...|...No net cutter?

It was just a couple of seconds.|I really couldn't say for...

So you were... you were on|lookout that night, mister...

Kingsley...|second mate, merchant navy.

Uh, no.

I was on the starboard deck|grabbing a gasper.

Having a cigarette.

And how many aboard your ship?

About 300 patients.

At least that many.

Out of North Africa.

Yeah, plus over 70 hands crew.

So, um...

You said they fired|only one torpedo?

O'Dell...

you better tell sonar we've got|an enemy sub in the area.

Yes, sir.|Just let me finish...

Now. Do it now.

Yes, sir.

I'm... I'm sorry that|we couldn't save more. I...

Now this... the third member|of your party, he's...

One of my patients.

Well, under normal|circumstances,

I'd be able to drop you|at the nearest port in England,

but, uh, it's a 300-mile|detour for us.

So I'm sorry.

It seems as though|we're stuck with each other.

Oh, uh, last thing.

Just try not to fraternize|with the men.

Most of the men are fine,

but some of them get a little|strange about having...

"Strange"|as in "superstitious"?

As in "strange. "

"Suddenly, his heart rolled over|backwards in his chest,

"and he saw this huge,|wretched thing before him.

"I nstantly, its mouth widened

"into a terrible|and hungry menace.

Now the malediction|uttered a deep-throated sound. "

...Malediction?|...Look it up.

"And its breath stank gloriously

"of rotted carp|and matted gorilla skins.

"Now... it slouched toward him...

"not fast, but slowly...

"slowly...

so very slowly. "

Silly boy.|Just the bulkhead shifting.

What'd you think it was?

The malediction?

Wahh!

What exactly bothers you,|O'Dell?

Well, you have a ship

that's sinking slow enough|to get a few lifeboats off,

but the submarine|only fires one torpedo.

I mean,|that's not textbook tactics.

You fire upon the target|until the target is sunk.

So it was their last torpedo.

Yeah, but...|why not use a deck gun?

O'Dell, isn't this|your first patrol?

My second.

Yeah.

And your first was|a little shakedown run

off the coast of Florida

in one of those old school|boats, right?

I'm just wondering if the story|didn't seem a little off.

I wouldn't worry about it,|champ.

They got here somehow.

...You want coffee?|...Sure.

I take it black.

Tell Broadway|make sure it's hot.

Try to sleep.

I know you're in pain,|but you must try.

Please.

Be quiet.

Sonar contact.

220 turns per minute,|Mr. Brice.

Maybe the Z-class.

Maybe we didn't shake him|after all.

...Full stop!|...Full stop!

Boat stands at full stop.

Mr. Coors...

...flood negative.|...Flood negative.

O'Dell, get on the thermograph.|Find us some cold.

Conn, 5-degree gradient|at 2-7-0 feet.

Cold water deflects sound waves|just in case they decide to...

...Aah!

Splashes!

...Splashes!|...Splashes!

God damn it!|Keep it steady!

Scared you, didn't it, kid?

Damage reports.

Well, maybe that Z-class|just happened to be there.

And maybe the phonograph|wasn't secured.

But God damn.

And maybe someone doesn't|want us to make it home.

Miss Page claims she was in|the control room the whole time.

Yeah, that's right.

...So what about the other guy?|...Kingsley?

Hmph!|If that's his name.

Where was he|when it all happened?

I'm not sure.|Maybe he stepped out.

Stepped out... or slipped out?

You know, maybe we're spending|more time watching that broad

than watching our backs.

Who, me?|I've talked to her twice.

I heard you were|bird-dogging her, O'Dell.

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