Destination Tokyo Page #2

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Hey, get a load of him, will you?

Presents.

"For Pills, the pharmacist's mate,

a mournful knell.

He dropped his vitamins

down the periscope well."

So, what do you got?

"The new kid forward

is wiser but sadder.

Since he stepped on the skipper

coming down the ladder!"

I apologized.

"On Wolf's grave, a wreath is laid.

Since he tangled his line

with that chambermaid."

- Come on, open it.

- Open it!

You should have had it filled.

"All hands get ready

to upchuck this dinner.

With Cookie in the galley,

we're going to get thinner."

Fine, listen.

If that ain't a new high

for gratitude.

Who practically mothers

all the guys on this ship?

I do.

Who bends over a hot stove

all day long for you guys?

I do.

Who's going to get all the glory

when you sink a Jap ship?

You! That's who.

Who's gonna get the medals

from this war? You guys!

And what am I going to get? Nothing but

varicose veins and dishwater hands!

Open it! Open it!

What have you got? Open it.

Gee, guys.

You shouldn't have done it.

Lookouts to the bridge.

Keep your eyes peeled, kid.

All submarines look alike.

We're nobody's friend.

Even our ships will shoot first

and ask questions afterward.

He listens to you like you were

a tin god.

- Look pretty snappy today, captain.

- You know, Christmas.

- Coffee, sir.

- Thank you.

- All clear starboard.

- All clear port.

You fellas know me.

I'm no highbrow.

When I come home, if there's

any grand opera playing...

...the whole Connors family goes

down there twice a week.

Don't ask me why, but to me, it's like

going down in a sub.

You shove off,

go deep under the sea.

When you come back up, you got something

inside that's never been there before.

Irish and Greeks, born philosophers.

I got a philosophy too.

Every day a box of Cracker Jacks

with a prize in every package.

I feel sorry for you.

You don't know what family means.

Family means a house has a mortgage,

the kids have measles...

...and the old man pays for the insurance

when he's dead. No, not for Wolfie.

The only babies I want

are those born 21 years ago.

Captain has given permission to pick up

the San Francisco newscast.

This broadcast comes to you

from the Friendly Credit Company.

The Friendly Credit Company trusts you.

Any amount from $ 25 to $ 1000.

And so Christmas Day

is bright on all fronts.

San Francisco police are continuing

the manhunt for a sailor...

... wanted on several counts.

The woman making the complaints

insists on prosecution.

The sailor was last seen boarding

a United States submarine at Mare Island.

The sailor is known to the girls

only as "Wolf."

- Well, Wolfie!

- Shut up.

However, his shipmates volunteered

information to the police.

Enough to send him up for 1042 years.

The Wolf has been described as a body

of man entirely surrounded by women.

- He's...

- Terrific!

Terrific.

It's just a gag, Wolfie. Just a gag.

Captain give you permission

to pull that stunt?

- Yes, sir.

- I was in on the gag too.

- Were you?

- Well, just around the edges.

- Plane coming in at the sun!

- Clear the bridge! Take her down!

- Hatch secured!

- Battle stations manned.

Main induction closed.

What was it?

Looked like a four-motor

bomber to me.

Pressure in the boat, sir.

Level off at 150 feet.

- Rig for depth charge.

- Rig for depth charge.

Close main vents.

Main vents closed, sir.

- Blow negative.

- Blow negative.

- Close negative flood.

- Close negative flood.

Negative flood closed, sir.

- Level off at 150.

- Level off at 150.

- Zero bubble.

- Zero bubble.

Open all vents.

- All ahead one-third.

- All ahead one-third.

All answering ahead one-third, sir.

- Pump from auxiliary to sea.

- Auxiliary to sea!

- Can we hear it when it comes?

- Yep, son.

We'll hear it, all right.

- Isn't there anything we can do?

- Yep. We're doing it.

Maybe it's one of our own planes.

If we sink, it doesn't matter

who drops the bombs.

Think they can see

our shadow from the air?

That's what we're finding out.

All clear, sir.

Let's go up for a look-see.

Periscope depth.

Periscope depth. Five degrees up angle.

- Twenty-degree rise on the bow planes.

- Five degrees up angle.

- Twenty-degree rise, sir.

- Take charge of your planes.

Up a foot.

Maybe that plane had feathers.

Looks as if we dunked

for a four-motored albatross.

Service, down scope.

Have a merry Christmas, men.

- Gee, fellas. I could have sworn...

- Albatross have retractable landing gear?

Lookouts to the bridge!

- You can hear that motor so plain!

- Key down. He feels bad enough.

Watch out, or they'll give you

an E for imagination.

Lay off him, Rocky.

That's all right, son.

I'd rather submerge for 100 birds

than not submerge for one plane.

Thank you, sir.

- All clear starboard.

- All clear port.

Hello, Andy.

Almost 24 hours out now, skipper.

About time to open orders?

Three minutes to go, Andy.

I got a hunch it's something big.

Last night, I dreamed we upped periscope.

Right in the middle of

the entire Jap imperial fleet.

Passing in review.

- Did we sink them all?

- With one torpedo.

Billiard shot.

By the way, there's a man

from the forward room.

Wants to see you on a matter

of vital importance.

- Torpedoman Adams.

- Send him in.

I was told I'd have to ask you, sir.

Go ahead. Ask me.

Sir, at sub school, we saw a lot

of pictures of submariners...

...coming back from patrols with beards.

- So you want to grow one?

- Yes, sir.

- Think you can?

- Sir, I'd like to find out.

Well, I'll tell you, Adams.

First patrol, we all grew beards.

I had a pip.

The second patrol was

about half and half.

Then we decided beards are itchy.

They get greasy. We keep a trim ship.

Makes sense we have a trim crew

to man her.

Yes, sir.

But I don't want to cheat you

of a beard on your first patrol.

Oh, that's all right, sir.

I only shave twice a week anyway.

If I could grow one,

it'd look a little limp.

I'll stick to shaving twice a week, sir.

Maybe when we get back,

you'll be shaving three times a week.

Thank you, sir. I guess I'd better

get back and do what I was doing.

Thank you.

Send in the quartermaster

with the chart catalog.

Captain wants the chart catalog, Rocky.

- Chart catalog, sir.

- Thank you. Stand by.

- Has he come yet?

- No. He's still in there.

- Bring in chart 1291.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Just get out that old chart of Tahiti.

I got a tomato in Papeete.

Poetry.

Gonna write a letter

to your wife every night?

- Yep. Sort of keeps us in touch.

- Doesn't make sense if there's no mail.

Who knows? We might hit Australia.

Then again, we might not.

Funny thing about submarines.

The crew always knows where we're going

before the captain does.

Holy smoke! Tokyo?

I always wanted to see those geisha gals

up-close.

- Too bad you didn't study "Japany" lingo.

- Listen, my language is international.

How are we going to get into Tokyo Bay?

The Copperfin just naturally sprouts wings.

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