The Enemy Below Page #4

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Reset at 150.

Secure it.

Fire one.

Fire two.

Come on, Ellis. Get the lead out.

Get up off your dime.

- Casualty here.

- Fire three.

Mr. Ware.

Stand by.

- Time the reload.

- Aye aye, sir.

Get a replacement.

Port red three. Release Bold.

Sonar, Captain. He's using some kind

of a decoy. Can you pick him out of it?

He's coming out of it now, sir,

heading about 080 degrees.

Left ten degrees rudder.

Reset depth-charge pattern to 150.

Increase rudder to 30 degrees left.

Steady up on 080.

Reverse course and take it up to 50.

Level.

Echo faded. I've lost contact.

- Lewis can't find him, sir.

- Secure underwater search.

Reduce speed to two-thirds.

Mr. Mackeson.

- I'm giving you a hypothetical problem.

- Aye, Captain?

Take our last contact

with the target as a start.

Our course was 164, sir.

Give the target a course of 260,

keep him on it for 30 minutes

at a speed of four knots.

260, 30 minutes, four knots.

Bring him back on course 140

for 30 minutes at a speed of eight knots.

140, 30 minutes, eight knots.

We'll hold our present course

and speed for half an hour.

30 at 18.

From there, give me a course

and speed to intercept the target.

Will we make a lost-contact search?

We won't catch this bird

in a search pattern.

I'm sure he's come off our keel

and scooted in the opposite direction.

Our course would be 239 degrees,

speed 19 knots.

We would intercept in 28 minutes

from the beginning of the run, sir.

All right, we'll try it.

Target might not come back

on course 140.

I think he will.

He's got an important mission.

Nothing'll stop him short of being sunk.

Pass the word to battle stations:

stand easy.

Aye aye, sir.

He fades, Herr Kapitn.

He goes away.

You think he's given up, Herr Kapitn?

It's possible.

But, to be certain,

we hold this course for a while,

before we turn again to 140.

- Captain, sir?

- Well?

- How're we doin'?

- You're doin' all right, sailors.

That guy Robbins is 180 out.

- This guy is no feather merchant.

- You said it.

I had to amputate his fingers.

What was your time on reloading,

Mr. Crain?

Three minutes three, the first time.

Two minutes 40, the second.

Right on. Give your crew

a "well done" for me.

Thank you, sir.

Lie still, sailor.

You're out of the war now.

Is it bad?

You've lost your fingers. It's my fault.

I shouldn't have tripped

the racks so quickly.

No, sir. I oughtn't

to have had my hand on the rail.

I guess I got excited, sir.

We'll get you flown stateside

as soon as we put back into Trinidad.

You'll be back in your

civvy job in no time at all.

I was a watchmaker.

Operational priority dispatch

coming in, sir.

Ask the executive officer

to join me in the crypto room.

Well, you won't be

making any watches again.

No, sir. But I'll make out all right.

I'd bet on that.

- All right, let's get him to bed.

- Did we get the sub, sir?

No, we missed him.

I'd have given my fingers

to get that sub.

I don't know anything about sub-chasing,

but I rather think

our new captain does. Joe.

If that U-boat is still in the ocean.

I wouldn't give a plugged duck

for its chances.

The dispatch is just

coming through the decoder, sir.

"Destroyers Luckman, Wald, Green,

detached to aid you."

"Anticipate U-boat may be attempting to

rendezvous with German Raider S, U or M."

"Reduce radio traffic to position signal

once every hour. End."

But it'll take 14 or 15 hours for

the destroyers to catch up with us.

Yes. If we're lucky enough

to find that U-boat,

he may tow us up against a raider before

help comes, and that wouldn't be so lucky.

Those murdering wolves can

outgun and outrun us.

How do you feel about it, Mr. Ware?

We're closing the triangle

in 14 minutes, sir.

Well?

Let's push our luck.

- Alert battle stations, Mr. Ware.

- Aye aye, sir.

Voltage is low on port generator.

- I'll call the LE.

- More soup, Herr Kapitn?

More power on the port generator.

It does not taste

like tennis shoes, Herr Kapitn?

It's very good.

The men mistreat you, Cookie.

They make jokes when they are happy.

I don't mind.

- Are they happy now?

- They are proud of you, Herr Kapitn.

Thank you, Cookie.

- It's now nearly 50 minutes, Herr Kapitn.

- Kunz.

Bring the ship up to periscope depth.

Herr Kapitn, the maneuvers

were brilliant.

The Fhrer would be pleased.

Herr Kapitn? Propellers. 1200 meters.

- Which quarter?

- Port.

- 18 meters.

- Be ready for emergency dive.

Emergency. Down to 80.

The American has read my mind, Heini.

- Water bombs.

- Port red three, down to 150.

- Target turning left.

- Left standard rudder.

Set depth charges to 150.

- Where is the bottom?

- A plateau, Herr Kapitn.

About 310 meters.

It's not possible, Herr Kapitn,

to go that deep.

The pressure would crush the hull.

Port red three. Release Bold.

- The bottom.

- Herr Kapitn...

Level.

Stop engines.

We build them good in Germany, Heini.

He's given me the slip again.

I'm only getting bottom echoes.

Sonar's lost him, Captain.

Give me a Fathometer reading.

150 fathoms, sir.

That's 310 meters.

That's over a thousand feet.

Can he go that deep?

He might like us to think he can't.

Slow down turbines easy until stopped.

I want absolute silence on this ship.

Sonar, this is the captain. Secure, but keep

a close listening watch on the hydrophone.

If he is down there,

I don't think he'll have time to linger.

His engines are fading.

He's not circling?

He's gone, Herr Kapitn.

We will listen for a while.

Doc, this is really a hot one.

At least they're keeping cool

down there.

- "A painted ship on a painted ocean."

- What's that, doc?

I was reminded of "The Ancient Mariner."

It rather fits us right now.

Something unreal about this

waiting out here on a deserted sea.

It'll be real enough

if that pig-boat puts a fish in us.

- Any luck, Rimfire?

- No, sir.

Them fish are afraid

they'll make some noise if they bite.

Here, let me try it.

I guess you're finding this sun

hard to take after the North Atlantic.

It doesn't matter. It's always either too

cold or too hot wherever there's a war on.

- Well, have a salt pill.

- Thanks.

We've been floating around

for quite a while.

Think the U-boat's

gotten away from us again?

No, he's down there all right.

- Beats me how they get men to do it.

- Do what?

Go and sit in that coffin down there.

They're not so bad off.

Actually, they stand a better chance

than we do, in this case.

Pretty hard for one ship

to surprise them.

Their commander might be able

to knock us off if he's smart enough.

- D'you think he is?

- What, smart enough?

We'll know that when it happens.

I wonder what sort of man he is.

Well, he's got his share of guts,

I know that.

If he weren't so bullheaded

about coming back on course 140,

he could have kissed us goodbye

a long time ago, that's all I know.

I have no idea what he is,

or what he thinks.

I don't wanna know the men

I'm trying to destroy.

Yes, I know.

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